A Thousand Years
by AStudyInTeal
Summary: Charlotte Xavier never expected to find herself assisting the CIA as a telepath. Then again, she hadn't really considered the possibility of finding others mutants like her and Raven. Of all things, she never expected Erik Lehnsherr, nor the effects he would have on the rest of her life.
1. Book 1: Chapter 1

**Book 1:   
**

**When Everything's Made to be Broken  
**

**_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cuz I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_**

**_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cuz sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight."_**

**~ "Iris", Goo Goo Dolls**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"…The advent of the nuclear age may have accelerated the mutation process. Individuals with extraordinary abilities may already be among us," she concluded. "Thank you very much."

A moment of terse silence ensued as she sat, but her audience wasn't looking at her now.

"MacTaggert, you really think that some crackpot scientist is going to make me believe in sparkly dames and vanishing men?" one of the CIA men snort derisively. "You just bought yourself a one-way ticket back to the typing pool. This meeting is over."

Charlotte spoke up quickly. "Ah, please, sit down, Agent MacTaggert," she asked politely. She was dressed professionally in a dove grey skirt suit, sitting straight with her legs crossed at the knee, but the men before her are sexist ignoramuses and they still considered her no more than a foolish teenaged girl. Time to get down to business, then.

"I didn't really expect you to believe me, as all you'd think about during my presentation is what sort of pie they'd be serving in the commissary," she spoke haughtily but paused. "It's apple pecan," she added with a sharp look but looks to MacTaggert. "I'm terribly sorry, but I haven't been entirely honest with you. You see," she returned her attention back to the men before her. "One of the spectacular things my mutation allows me to do is that I can read your mind."

She relished the skeptical looks on their faces, preparing for the following expressions of incredulity.

"I've seen this trick before at the magic show," the one on the right said scathingly. "Are you gonna ask us to think of a number between one and ten?"

Charlotte laughed politely, still smiling sweetly. "No, Agent Stryker, although—I could ask you about your son, William, you were thinking about, which is very nice—but," she leaned forward eagerly, "I think I'd rather ask you about the Jupiter missiles America are currently placing in Turkey."

The panic is well worth her wait. They both straightened in alarm and shared an urgent look.

"She's a goddamn spy!" the other agent spat. "You brought a goddamn spy!"

Chaos ensued momentarily.

_Raven, if you would?_

_My pleasure, Char._

Her sister stood instantly, taking Stryker's appearance (though with a smirk). The room froze instantly. After a moment, she reverted to her natural azure form.

Charlotte smirked. "How's that for a magic trick?"

The man in the back finally spoke up. "Best I've ever seen."

A cursory perusal of his mind made her smile. An ally, especially one of his position, was a valuable thing.

Good. They wouldn't be thrown into a cell. Though she'd only have manipulated other agents minds into releasing them, this was far more preferable.

She didn't expect their next ally.

* * *

"There's someone else out there!"

She pushed past them, back out to the deck, and located the other in an instant.

"_There!_" she exclaimed, pointing to the speck in the water…just as the _Caspartina_'s anchor rose into the air and began destroying the ship. Charlotte's mouth fell open as she watched the display.

Information came pouring in from the mutant's mind. Shaw—in a submarine escaping—the mutant trying to pull it back—

"_Let go!_" she screamed, leaning on the rail. "Let go!" Charlotte turned to the others. "You've got to help him—get someone in the water to help him—" The other had not heard her. "Let it go! _You have to let it go_!"

But he only began sinking under the water…

They were not listening. There wasn't time—

"Sod this," she muttered, flinging off her jacket and shoes before taking a running start and diving off the ship. "Charlotte—" Moira exclaimed, but the telepath hit the water before she heard more.

She latched on to him, wrapped her arms around his chest, and tried to pull him up. _You can't. You'll drown_, she told his mind kindly but firmly.

The professor delved into his mind and knew him.

Blinding, consuming rage—heartbreaking grief from years past—desperation, _I can't let him get away, not again_—and a fierce determination, willing to die if it meant taking Shaw-Schmidt with him.

_I know what this means to you but you are going to die_, she told him urgently, tugging at him again. _Please, Erik._ She plucked his name from his mind. _Calm your mind. _

Finally, he listened and almost went limp for a moment, watching Shaw escape again, as Charlotte pulled him to the surface. Even without trying to read his mind, she could feel the mixture of desperation / disappointment / fury.

When they surfaced, he shoved her away. "Get off me, _get off me!_" She allowed him to distance himself while she gasped for air.

"Calm down, just breathe!" she told him calmly, trying to sooth the boil vat of anger she could feel within him. He was pouring out his anger and confusion like a leaky faucet; much more of it and she'd get a headache. "We're here!" the telepath screamed to the people on the ship.

The mutant, Erik, looked at her—she tried to ignore his thought of _A girl?_—and asked sharply, "Who are you?"

"My name is Charlotte Xavier," she replied, spitting out water.

"You were in my head!" he exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

She smiled a bit. "You have your tricks, Erik, and I have mine. I'm like you—just calm your mind!"

The wide-eyed look of shock and confusion he gave her softened her heart. "I—I thought I was alone." Her heart clenched at the sudden sense of loneliness but rising hope.

"You're not alone," she told him with a smile. "Erik, you're not alone."

* * *

They said no more as they were fished out of the sea and onto the ship.

As they stood, huddling and shivering from the cold, on the deck, several crew members went in search of blankets and fresh clothes.

The CIA people and Raven eyed the newcomer curiously.

"H-He's w-w-with us-s," Charlotte stammered. "A-an ally."

God, it was freezing. She shivered and her legs were kind of numb—but at least she was wearing trousers instead of a skirt. That could have ended badly. But her sweater was soaked and clinging. A couple nearby crewmen leered; Charlotte ignored their filthy minds and turned to chastise them, but didn't have the chance. Before she could say a word, they scurried off.

Turning back to face the others, the telepath was surprised to find Erik glaring after them, thinking loud curses in—German? Yes, that was German. Charlotte held back the amused smile that threatened to give her away. Instead, she looked at him curiously.

Out of the water, she could see him better. And, wow, he was a tall one; he practically loomed over her five-four frame. His dark hair was plastered to his head and he, too, was shivering.

Finally, spare clothing was found and they changed. As the ship returned to land, they all gathered and introductions were made.

Charlotte let Moira explain while the telepath focused on pinning her wet hair out of her face. Finally, he explained, though briefly. "He killed my mother trying to get me to use my abilities," he said tersely. "I've been after him for years now."

A pang of sympathy resounded in her. There was the explanation for the well of sorrow and hatred in him that had tugged at her painfully earlier.

When they adjourned, Erik paused beside her before they parted. "You said you were in my mind earlier, Miss Xavier."

"Please," she told him, "It's Professor Xavier if you want to be formal, but I'd prefer Charlotte."

His mouth hardened for a moment. "You didn't answer my question."

"Technically, you didn't ask one. You rephrased an earlier statement, but yes you were correct."

Erik's eyes narrowed. "I asked in my mind, I thought you were listening."

Charlotte shook her head. "No. I try to stay out of others' minds if possible," she told him. Now that he had calmed, she could block his thoughts from her.

"Good," he told her, "And stay out."

He left before she could say more.


	2. Book 1: Chapter 2

**Book 1: **

**When Everything's Made to be Broken**

**_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cuz I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_**

**_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cuz sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight."_**

**~ "Iris", Goo Goo Dolls**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The next night she found him trying to sneak out of the CIA facility with Shaw's file.

"From what I know about you," she told him, "I'm surprised you managed to stay this long."

He stopped and stared at her tensely. "What d'you know about me?"

She gave a regretful smile. "Everything."

"Then you know to out of my head."

"I'm sorry, Erik," she said after him when the other began to walk away, "but I've seen what Shaw did to you." He stopped, but didn't turn. "I've felt your agony. I can help you."

Erik looked back to her. "I don't need your help."

"Don't kid yourself," she told him walking forward, hands in her pockets. "You needed me last night; you would have drowned. It's not just me you're walking away from. Here you have a chance to be a part of something much bigger than yourself…I won't stop you from leaving," she told him. _Though I want to_, she thought to herself.

"I could," Charlotte admitted quietly, "but I won't."

She turned to go back inside. "Shaw's got friends," she said over her shoulder. "You could do with some."

The next morning, when they all had breakfast together, she didn't say a word to him, but Charlotte smiled when she saw him.

_I'm glad you stayed, my friend_, she thought but did not share. Her smile probably said it for her.

* * *

The next day brought the experience of the Cerebro.

After Hank's explanation, she eagerly put on the helmet with a wide smile, though she had to adjust it lower to properly rest on her head at her small height.

"What an adorable lab rat you make, Charlotte," Erik commented with an amused smirk.

"Don't spoil this for me, Erik," she replied, though she still grinned (which had nothing to do with the compliment).

He chuckled. "I've been a lab rat. I know one when I see one."

Hank began checking the circuits on the helmet. "Okay, great," he murmured, then asked her, "Are you sure we can't shave your head?"

"Don't touch my hair," she replied seriously.

Hank nodded. "Okay," he relented at her stern tone. Joke as he might, her hair was a small vanity she allowed herself. (She didn't have much in the beauty department, but her long dark hair were one of her few attributes she liked. No one would be touching it, that was sure.)

* * *

As Hank went to the monitors and set about beginning the machine, Erik met Charlotte's eyes while he leaned on the rail beside her.

_I will rip that off your head if it malfunctions_, he thought very loudly to her, despite his instruction the night before not to touch his mind. _It's made of metal, after all._

The short woman gave him a small grin, nodding as if to convey that she believed him. As she should, too; he didn't trust this contraption. He watched vigilantly as Cerebro started; Raven stepped closer beside him, just as cautious.

Suddenly, Charlotte gave a loud gasp and her hands shot out to grasp the rail before her. Erik straightened, tense, but did not move. It was a gasp of amazement, he realized—not pain.

"Oh. _Oh_," she whispered with a bright smile.

"It's working!" Hank exclaimed as he read the print out of coordinates. The telepath gave a breathy laugh of astonishment as it continued; to her left, her sister smiled too.

Erik still watched, reluctant to trust the machine, but was looking more at the growing wonder and joy upon the professor's face rather than Cerebro.

* * *

And so their journey began as they trekked about the country to recruit.

It was rather fun, if Charlotte was honest. She was enjoying the opportunity to get to know Erik Lehnsherr better and he seemed to now somewhat trust her, after she had sided with him against the director back at the CIA division.

After only really having Raven as a friend for most of her life, it was wonderful to have the chance to befriend someone new.

* * *

For Charlotte, it was vaguely uncomfortable to be in a club with Erik, even if it was to find a mutant, but at the same time she was glad he was with her as well.

When another patron of the club eyed her lewdly, Erik saw it as well as she and merely offered her his arm. Glad for the offer, she stepped closer and tucked her hand into his elbow. This did the trick and seemed to ward off any men looking for any other such trouble.

Once in the private booth, their mutant leveled them with a look. "Look, you know it's double for both right?"

"That won't be necessary," Charlotte said after a sip of wine.

"No," Erik agreed, "We were thinking more…we'll show you ours if you show us yours."

"Baby, that is _not_ how it works around here," she replied impatiently. "And I'm surprised your girlfriend would agree to that."

She chuckled. "More wine, if you please, Erik?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied and snapped his fingers, levitating the ice bucket into the air to reach the bottle.

The mutant grinned at them as he refilled her glass. "My turn," she said, and then grew wings.

"How would you like a job where you get to keep your clothes on?"

* * *

Seating themselves in the back of the taxi, the driver asked, "Where to, lovebirds?"

"Richmond, Virginia," Erik said.

"Right, so, you want the airport? The station? What?" the driver asked in confusion

"No," Charlotte replied with a smile, "We were rather hoping you'd take us all the way." To prove her point, Erik turned the meter and replied, "That will give us plenty of time to talk."

He grinned at them in the mirror and turned to introduce himself.

"Armando Muñoz."

"Erik Lehnsherr and Professor Charlotte Xavier," she replied, "But not lovebirds."

He just grinned and laughed as he started the car.

* * *

"Crazy, huh?" came a voice behind her. "You like fish, I like fish too. Maybe we should get a bite sometime, talk about it."

Charlotte glanced at the redhead beside her. "Actually, I'd much rather talk about mutation and, more specifically what it allows you to do."

He stared for a long moment. "Um—"

"We can still grab a bite, if you want," she said. "But I'm afraid my friend Erik, here, will be coming along too." Erik gave him a look over her shoulder that clearly said, _don't even try to flirt anymore_.

Charlotte grinned.

* * *

"Excuse me, I'm Erik Lehnsherr."

"And I'm Charlotte Xavier," she continued, standing behind a gruff-looking man smoking a cigar in a seedy bar.

"Go fuck yourself," he said bluntly, but then glanced at them, eyes lingering on her. "Although, sweetheart, if you wanted to ditch your boyfriend here, I'd be happy to have you for company tonight."

She rolled her eyes. _No thank you, Mr Logan_, she told him mentally with a sarcastic tone, _I've already got wonderful company tonight._ She turned on her heel with Erik only a step behind.

Once in their rental car, he commented, "You know, I'm noticing a pattern."

She chuckled under her breath. "As am I. But we're a man and a woman traveling together. People naturally assume things."

That still wasn't an excuse, but, she supposed, there were far more things to enjoy about traveling with Erik than the disadvantages.

* * *

One evening during their travels, she knocked on his room door and poked her head in. "Do you play chess?" she asked without preamble. "There was a set in the hotel lobby that the manager said I could use…"

He nodded. "I do. White or black?"

She grinned and came in. "I have no preference," she replied, settling into a chair at the table.

The metallokinetic went to a cupboard and withdrew a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. "A drink?"

She grinned. "Chess, clever conversation, _and_ scotch?" Charlotte laughed. "A man after my own heart."

Erik rolled his eyes and poured the scotch, but his eyes glinted with amusement. "You can be white," he decided. "You might need the advantage." He opened the box and set out the board. The pieces, made of pewter, he arranged with a wave of his hand. She grinned at that, always pleased to see another's abilities.

"You wish," she replied with a smirk as she knocked back the tumbler.

So they began their game.

"Besides eavesdropping on people's thoughts, what exactly can you do?" he asked curiously, moving a pawn.

Charlotte tensed momentarily but reluctantly, slowly, replied, "Other things along those lines. It depends on the mind, really. I can pick up on emotions as well. In times of distress or passion, emotions are more…real to me, as if my own. Memories are easy enough to get into," she paused, before moving a knight.

He gave her a curious glance. "I assume that is what you did when we first met? Saw all my memories."

"Oh." She flushed slightly. "Well, I didn't exactly—er. I didn't see all your memories, though I suppose I implied I had. You were…very upset and broadcasting your distress. I could feel it all," the telepath said quietly. "I could feel all the rage and grief and determination. I understood how much getting Shaw meant to you, but not your motivation why. And I knew that you were willing to drown out there if it meant Shaw died too."

Erik gave her a long, piercing look before he said, "Oh, you're not listening then."

"What?" she asked as she moved a bishop to intercept a rook.

"You're not reading my mind now," he clarified.

She shook her head. "No. As I said, I try not to. Rude, you know. I can't tune it all out. It's still there in the back of my head like white noise unless I focus." Charlotte closed her eyes; her hand went to her temple by habit. "The couple two doors down are arguing; he found out about her affair. At the end of the hall, there is a writer working on a manuscript. Across the hall are a couple coeds. Hm. They're drinking far too much; the hangover will be painful tomorrow. And you…you're staring at me." She blinked. "In…awe?"

He chuckled. "Yes, that is all rather amazing, you know, _Liebling_."

"Oh," she said, surprised, and took a long sip of scotch to excuse herself from replying for a moment. "Most people are unnerved when I discuss it. Get twitchy and nervous about what I will overhear when they aren't paying attention…I'm sorry," she said, withdrawing. "I didn't mean to cause discomfort."

"It's not uncomfortable, just…different," he commented as he moved a rook and refilled their glasses of scotch.

She gave a little "hm" of thought and fell silent, before grinning widely. "And that, my friend, is check, I believe."

"_Verdammt_, Charlotte."

The telepath just grinned. "Another game then?"

* * *

Charlotte, in Oxford, had been fairly well known.

After all, there were not that many women in Oxford and certainly very few with her intellect and dedication. She was known for her brilliance in genetics and many predicted a bright future for her in that field.

Academics aside, Charlotte was also a bit famous as a flirt in pubs. She had most certainly dated before, though never for more than several months. The telepath was recognized for her enjoyment of a pint at the pub, her love for flirting, and sometimes even a bit more than just that in a night.

Despite how often she and Raven went out for a drink, Charlotte was not known for her tolerance for alcohol.

That tolerance (or, rather, her lack thereof) came back to bite her several times in her years at Oxford, usually in the form of finding she had spent the night with someone. It also came back to bite her that evening on their cross-country scavenger hunt for mutant recruits.

She woke around three in the morning to find herself sprawled on a hotel bed, half-dressed, beside a familiar person.

Erik was still asleep, snoring softly into her hair, in a similar state as she. He was on his stomach, shirtless, and smelled of the scotch they had shared.

Her fuzzy recollections of that night ended somewhere around the time of opening a second bottle of scotch.

Careful not to wake her friend (paramour?), Charlotte slipped from the bed and took in the room around her. Their second chess match had not finished, though it looked as if Erik would have checkmate in five moves, and the second scotch bottle was empty.

She paused to fix her hitched-up skirt and to button her shirt.

With hands she did not allow to tremble, the telepath collected the chess set and slipped out of Erik's room to return to her own.

Charlotte was unsure if anything had actually happened, but she did not want to stick around to see Erik's reaction if he woke to find her there.


	3. Book 1: Chapter 3

**Book 1:   
**

**When Everything's Made to be Broken  
**

**_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cuz I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_**

**_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cuz sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight."_**

**~ "Iris", Goo Goo Dolls**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"The plane for Russia leaves in an hour," Moira told them.

"I'm telling you, these kids are not ready for Shaw," Erik said, mostly to Charlotte, who frowned.

She sighed. "I think they're going to surprise you. They're an exceptional bun—" she cut off mid sentence as her telepathy picked up on the activity ahead.

"Oh, bloody hell, never mind," she hissed and hurried forward, the other two following curiously.

The window was shattered, the statue was _cut in half_, the rec room was trashed. Hank was hanging from the ceiling, Angel was flying, Raven was dancing (and possibly drunk), and the other two boys were testing out the strength of the chairs by hitting Darwin with them.

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_" Moira shouted, killing the party mood instantly. Charlotte put her hands in her trouser pockets and gave them all the most disappointed look she could muster.

"Who destroyed the statue?" the agent demanded, looking for all the world like a school teacher reprimanding a class.

"It was Alex," Hank reported.

"No, Havok," Raven interrupted with a grin. "We have to call him Havok, that's his name now. And we were thinking," she said, coming up to Charlotte and Erik, "You should be Professor X and you should be Magneto."

Erik was unimpressed. "Exceptional."

With a final severe look, Moira stalked off, with a vague motion to Charlotte and a loud thought, _They're all yours._

Erik followed. Charlotte lingered and merely said, "I expected more of you."

* * *

Later, on their plane, Charlotte glanced to Erik beside her, staring out the window. She shared the visualization of the kids, looking chastised by Moira.

_Why do I feel like that was akin to the school headmaster handing off scolded students to their parents?_ She thought to him.

He chuckled. _Oh, gott. I never really wanted kids and now here we are with six._

She chuckled at the thought. They may as well be the children's parents; they were a family now and Charlotte and Erik were definitely the heads of the family. Mummy Charlotte and Daddy Erik. She chuckled at the private thought. The professor raised her glass of wine in a toast. _To parenthood, then, and the joy it brings with it._

* * *

In the truck, on the way to the Russian military retreat, they were surprised by the roadblock. Charlotte took care of it effortlessly, so it looked to Erik as he watched nervously.

Once the truck was closed again and they remain undiscovered, he let out a nervous breath and patted Charlotte on the leg in relief. They shared nervous but relieved grins.

* * *

When they arrived at the military retreat, Charlotte was on edge, watching Erik cautiously.

They watched as Emma Frost arrived—alone.

The professor shook her head. "He's not coming. Now what, boss?" she asked Moira.

"Now nothing, we're here for Shaw. Mission aborted."

Erik threw down his binoculars. "The hell it is—"

"Erik!" Moria snapped.

"She's his right hand woman," he snapped. "That's good enough for me."

"The CIA invading the home of a senior Soviet official?" the agent replied. "_Are you crazy?_"

"I'm not CIA," he replied and ran.

"_Erik—_" Charlotte snapped a moment too late.

She watched as the barbed wire came alive and coiled around the guards as Erik shot toward the grounds.

"He's going to start World War Three single-handedly!" Moira's partner, Levine, snapped.

"We have to do something."

"Like what?" he replied shortly before turning to the other agents. "We're moving out."

Charlotte looked desperately to Moira. "I'm sorry, I _can't_ leave him!" And she took off after Erik and watched as he took down the guards with their own guns.

_Erik!_ She screamed mentally. _ERIK! Damn you, wait for me! Don't go in alone, you idiot!_

The telepath paused only to put the guards to sleep. She hurtled into the house and nearly ran into him. _Thank you_, she thought his way. He nodded wordlessly and they burst into the main room together.

The general was in some sort of illusion, but Frost was sitting patiently on the couch.

After exchanging a surprised glance with him, she told Frost, "Nice trick."

When the general snapped out of the delusion and drew his gun, Charlotte snapped, "Go to sleep." He fell over, unconscious, immediately.

"Nice trick," Frost said before turning into her diamond form. "You can stop trying to read my mind, sugar." Damn, that hurt her head to try. "You're never going to get anything out of me like this."

She made a run for it, but they caught her and pinned her to the foot of the bed. Erik held her there tightly with the metal bed frame.

"So then you can just tell us," he told her. "Where's Shaw?"

The metal tightened. "Erik?" she asked.

Again, it tightened and Charlotte could see her struggling to breathe... "Erik, that's enough."

Still nothing. _Erik, that's enough_, she thought forcefully to him. Reluctantly now, he finally acquiesced and released her. She quickly returned to her human form.

"She's all yours," he said, sitting down. "She won't be shifting into diamond form again. If she does, just give her a gentle tap."

Charlotte knelt and scanned through the blond's mind.

_Oh my God..._

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Frost asked. Charlotte just gave her a look of disgust. "Erik, this is worse than we previously imagined," she looked to her fellow telepath. "We're taking you with us. The CIA will want to question you themselves."

"I doubt it," she replied. "I have bigger things to worry about now."

Charlotte frowned and felt her niggling at the back of her mind, trying to get in. The professor smiled sweetly. Pressing her fore and middle fingers to Frost's forehead, she told her "_Sleep_."

She did.

Erik watched curiously. "I thought that would've been harder because she's like you."

Charlotte grinned at him. "What? You're not doubting me are you, Erik?"

"Nope," he replied, taking a gulp of the general's liquor. "Never."

* * *

Four hours later, she was asleep (and she would deny that her head was resting on Erik's shoulder) until a piercing thought shot through her mind.

_CHARLOTTE!_

The telepath jolted awake with a gasp, startling the other mutant beside her. "Charlotte?"

She didn't reply, focusing instead on the thoughts she was being sent. _Raven?_

_Yes! We're being attacked. Shaw's two mutants are here, they're—they're—_ Words ended but a stream of images poured in.

"Charlotte, what's wrong?" Erik said, gripping her wrist.

She took a shaky breath. "Shaw—he—he's attacking the CIA base now. Oh God, he's after the children— Here, let me, let me show you—"

Focusing, she shared the input from Raven—_the guards all dying. Finally, Shaw, in a strange helmet, and the two others arriving in the room. _

_"Where's the telepath?" Shaw asked the red teleporter._

_"Not here," he replied in an accented voice._

_Shaw grinned slightly. "Well, at least I can take this silly thing off," he said, removing the helmet._

Erik's grip on her wrist tightened. _Mein gott_, she heard him think softly in realization.

_"Good evening, my name's Sebastian Shaw and I am _not_ here to hurt you."_

Together, they watched it all: Shaw's offer, Angel's betrayal, Darwin and Alex's trick—

_Darwin, don't!_ she thought to him urgently. He didn't even seem surprised. _I have to, Professor. I'm sorry._ And then he was gone; the pain of his mind suddenly being extinguished burned her and she felt the pain of it.

_Charlotte. Charlotte!_

Erik's prodding made her focus. She returned to Raven's mind as Shaw vanished. _We're on our way back, little sister. We're already four hours out from Russia. Hold on and be safe, please. Keep each other safe._

Charlotte broke the connection and slumped into her seat. She hadn't even realized she was crying.

Beside her, Erik finally released his grip on her wrist and pulled out a handkerchief to offer her. _Thank you_, she thought to him as she dried her tears.

_We have to send them home,_ she decided. _It isn't safe for them any longer. I won't allow any more of our...of our family to be hurt._

He glanced at her curiously. _You are very maternal already, Charlotte_, he noticed.

She shook her head with a bitter smile. _I wouldn't be a good mother; this proves it. A mother should be able to protect her children. But I didn't._

Erik was silent and gave her a long, contemplative look. _Not all mothers are able to protect their children. Mine wasn't able to protect me. But that does not make her any less of a mother because of circumstances beyond her control_, he told her quietly. She could feel the grief lurking behind his words at the memory of his mother. _You are a good mother to the children in this peculiar family we have gathered, Liebling._

His words—and the gentle honesty she felt from him—smoothed the sharp edges of the raw pain of loss and failure inside her.

_Thank you, Erik,_ she thought to him quietly, but asked, _Are you ever going to tell me what that nickname means?_

He chuckled. _Probably not. _

She shook her head fondly before curling comfortably in her seat, resting her head again on his shoulder, and returned to sleep.


	4. Book 1: Chapter 4

**Book 1:   
**

**When Everything's Made to be Broken  
**

**_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cuz I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_**

**_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cuz sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight."_**

**~ "Iris", Goo Goo Dolls**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

As soon as the car parked, she flew from it and rushed to the children. Her sister saw them first and stood from the bench to hug her.

Charlotte turned to the others. "We've made arrangements for you to be taken home immediately," she told them, grim-faced.

"We're not going home," Alex replied immediately.

"What?" slipped from her lips too fast.

"He's not going back to prison," Sean clarified. Alex nodded. "He killed Darwin."

The professor pursed her lips. "All the more reason for you to leave. This is over."

Beside her, Raven spoke. "Darwin's dead, Charlotte. And we can't even bury him."

Across from Charlotte, Erik spoke up after a moment of aggrieved silence. "We can avenge him." Everyone looked to him in surprise.

Charlotte cleared her throat. "Erik, a word please?" she asked, pulling him aside from the children. "They're just kids," she said softly.

"No," he disagreed quickly, stubbornly. "They _were_ just kids. Shaw has his army. We need ours."

She shook her head. "Erik, I'll not make these children into soldiers to fight in a war that they cannot properly fight."

"Train them then," he replied. _You know I'm right,_ he thought to her. _We can't fight Shaw alone._

She turned back to the children and Moira, all looking to her hopefully. Charlotte sighed. "We'll have to train," she decided. "All of us, yes?"

"Yeah!" Alex agreed immediately. The others nodded too.

"But we can't stay here," Hank said. "Even if they reopen the department, it's not safe. We've got nowhere to go."

A smile curled Charlotte's lip. "Yes we do. Tell me. How do you feel about New York?"

* * *

"Honestly, Charlotte," Erik said wryly. "I don't know how you survived, living in such hardship."

The Xavier house in Westchester loomed before them impressively and Charlotte was pleased to find they all seemed to like it.

"Well, it was a hardship softened by me," Raven said and came to stand between them. "C'mon, time for the tour!"

Charlotte separated from the group then. While Raven showed them around, she set about assigning bedrooms and making sure everything was suitable. The house had been empty for some time, as they had been in England, so she knew she should ensure there were fresh linens in all the rooms. Once the chore was done, she went to meet them in the sitting room.

The children were chattering away excitedly, eager about their new home. Charlotte settled beside Erik on a couch to begin planning their training.

* * *

She knew Erik had spoken with Raven, but otherwise he had not said much in regards to training to the other children. He watched and discussed ideas with Charlotte but left the training to her.

Never let it be said he did nothing though.

"And you truly believe I'll fly this time?" Sean asked apprehensively from their spot atop the satellite dish.

"Unreservedly," she replied honestly.

He glanced at her. "I trust you—"

"I'm touched." And she was.

"—but I don't trust him."

"Say nothing," she told Hank, who remained wisely quiet. Erik, on Sean's other side, grinned.

The boy glanced down. "I'm going to die!" he exclaimed.

"Alright, look," she told him, laying a hand on his shoulder and subtly calming the rising fear she could sense in his mind. "We're not going to make you do anything you feel comfortable—"

Erik spoke up. "Here, let me help you," he offered and shoved the boy off the platform.

"_Erik!_" she exclaimed in shock as the boy screamed in fear.

But then he screamed at the proper pitch and took off in flight, spreading the 'wings' of his suit. A wide grin crossed her face but she glanced at Erik with an exasperated look.

"What?" he said, torn between being defensive and amused. "You know you were thinking the same."

Charlotte laughed despite herself.

_There's enough metal in his suit that I could have caught him_, he admitted to her silently.

_I know, my friend. I guessed as much._

* * *

"Are you sure?"

Erik nodded. "I'm sure," he replied, grinning as Charlotte pointed the gun inches from his forehead. Reluctance danced across her face and the gun trembled slightly in the air as she steeled herself.

"No, no I can't," she said lowering the gun. "I'm sorry but I can't shoot anyone point blank—especially not you."

"Oh, come on," he said, pulling her hand back up to point the gun at his head. "You know I can deflect it. You're always telling me to challenge myself."

She lowered the gun again. "If you know you can deflect it, you're not challenging yourself."

Charlotte sighed at the disappointment on his face. "Fine, fine," she relented. "If you are certain…"

He grinned for a moment before she raised the gun.

In a quick, fluid movement, she clicked off the safety, raised the gun to her temple, and fired.

"_No!_" Erik shouted, hand raised, eyes wide.

And Charlotte laughed, lowering the gun. The bullet remained frozen beside her head before she plucked it from the air and held it in her palm before pocketing it.

"How's that for pushing you?" she asked with a wide grin.

He was not as amused. "Don't do that!" he exclaimed. "What if I hadn't stopped it in time? What if I didn't see you raise the gun until it was too late?"

The telepath smiled at his concern and patted his shoulder. "Oh, I have faith in you, love. I knew you wouldn't let that happen."

He gave her an unamused glance.

"Whatever happened to the man who tried to raise a submarine?" she asked, offering him the firearm.

"Oh, I can't," he replied tiredly, taking the gun. "Something that big, I need the situation, the anger."

"No," she disagreed. "The anger is not in there."

"Well, it's gotten the job done," Erik replied. "All this time."

"You can do it this time," Charlotte told him and glanced away. "No, come here. Let's try something a little more challenging."

She led him off the path and pointed toward the satellite dish in the distance. "See that? Try turning it to face us."

Erik took a deep breath and tried. Charlotte could sense the determination pouring from his mind without even trying. He continued until he was red in the face and slumped against the stone wall.

"You know, I believe that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity," she told him. He looked at her. "Do you mind if I…?" she motioned to her temple.

He shook his head slightly, curious.

Closing her eyes, she delved into his mind, sifting through memories, deep into his past until…

_There Erik was as a little boy, with his parents standing before a lit menorah; his mother smiled lovingly to him and caressed his cheek gently..._

Charlotte wiped a tear from her cheek before opening her eyes to look at him.

"How did you just do that?" he asked calmly, though she could see him holding back tears.

"I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system," she explained and came to stand beside him. "It's a very beautiful memory, Erik. Thank you."

"I didn't know I still had that, Liebling" he admitted. _The warmth in the memory, the love for his mother, the aching longing for his family..._

Her heart clenched and she grasped his hand. "There is so much more to you than you know," she told him sincerely. "Not just pain and anger. There's good too—_I felt it_. If you can access all of that, you'll possess a power no one can match. Not even me. So come on," she said with an encouraging smile. "Try again!"

He turned back to the satellite and stretched out a shaking hand, with tears still in his eyes. The satellite creaked loudly...and turned.

A wide smile split his face and he leaned on the stone wall again as he laughed. Charlotte felt a matching, proud smile upon her own face as she chuckled with him. "Knew you could do it," she said proudly and pressed a small, chaste kiss to his cheek.


	5. Book 1: Chapter 5

**Book 1:   
**

**When Everything's Made to be Broken  
**

**_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cuz I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_**

**_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cuz sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight."_**

**~ "Iris", Goo Goo Dolls**

* * *

**Chapter 5  
**

"Cuba, Russia, America—it makes no difference," she said over chess. "Shaw's declared war on mankind, on all of us. He has to be stopped."

"I'm not going to stop Shaw," Erik replied. "I'm going to kill him." He met her eyes. "Do you have it in you to allow me to do that?"

She said nothing and leaned forward in her chair.

"You've known all along why I was here, Charlotte," he told her. "But things have changed. What started as a covert mission...tomorrow, mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us—they won't differentiate. They'll fear us and that fear will turn to hatred."

"Not if we stop a war," she disagreed. "Not if we can prevent Shaw, not if we risk our lives doing so."

He asked, "Would they do the same for us?"

"We have it in us to be the better men," she replied.

"We already _are_," Erik replied stubbornly. "We're the next stage of human evolution—you said it yourself! Are you really so naïve as to think they won't battle their own extinction? Or is it arrogance?"

"I'm sorry?"

"After tomorrow, they're going to turn on us," he told her grimly. "And you're blind to it because you think they're all like Moira."

She pursed her lips. "And you believe they're all like Shaw." He said nothing to disagree or defend himself. The telepath sat forward. "Listen to me very carefully my friend: killing Shaw will _not_ bring you peace."

"Peace was never an option."

They sat in silence for several minutes, only moving to make their chess moves.

Erik sighed and muttered under his breath, "_Verdammt. Dies ist nicht was ich wollte_." **[1] **He looked up to Charlotte sadly. As she reached for her glass of scotch, he laid a hand over hers. "I don't want us to end up as enemies, Charlotte," he told her sincerely.

She smiled cheerlessly. "It will never end as anything but," she remarked, gazing at him sadly. "We are both too proud, too stubborn, to give up our beliefs, no matter what they cost us."

"What if we did?" he asked. "What if I did and we killed Shaw tomorrow? What then?"

Charlotte paused and queried, "May I show you?"

Erik nodded. She took his hand and placed it on her temple as she closed her eyes. Images flew through his mind.

_It was her home, the Xavier family house...but it wasn't a house anymore. It was a school. Children—mutant children—ran through the grounds, playing, laughing, freely using their powers. Cerebro was rebuilt in a new wing for the mansion. There was a basketball court and the pool was open. Hank had his lab still but now had another as a classroom. The library was a study room too. The spare bedrooms were now dorms. _

_A plaque at the front of the building proclaimed it as the "Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters"._

_The children were there too. Raven, Hank, Sean, Alex.  
_

_He was there too with her, sitting outside as they watched the younger mutants play—at peace and content and safe. They laughed as Sean tripped and fell. Charlotte said something with a grin and they both laughed before she leaned over and kissed him—_

She jerked and ended it. Erik startled because of the image's abrupt end but did not move his hand from her temple.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean for you to see..." Her face was aflame but she didn't open her eyes, afraid to see his reaction.

Gently, his hand moved to her cheek.

She didn't expect him to gently press his lips to hers in a chaste but tender kiss. Charlotte pulled back after a moment and gazed at him sadly.

"Charlotte, I—"

The professor shook her head and silenced him. "Don't," she whispered hoarsely. "Don't say it if you can't promise you will still be here with me, with all of us, after tomorrow."

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her. "I'm sorry," he said and stood to leave.

"I know," she whispered back.

* * *

**[1] - German: "Damn it. This isn't what I wanted."**


	6. Book 1: Chapter 6

**Book 1: **

**When Everything's Made to be Broken**

**_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cuz I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_**

**_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cuz sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight."_**

**~ "Iris", Goo Goo Dolls**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"What was that?" Angel snapped.

Azazel teleported in abruptly. "The Russians. They have fired on their own ship." He slipped on the headset to listen to the radio. "They are saying the comrade lost his mind. The Americans are applauding."

"They're here," Shaw said. "Hm. That telepath is powerful… We're moving to a back-up plan," he decided as he put on the helmet.

"That was inspired, Charlotte," Moira praised.

"Thank you very much," she replied, hand at her temple. "But I still can't locate Shaw."

It wasn't good enough for Erik. "He's down there. We need to find him _now_."

"Hank?"

The newly-furry mutant turned. "Is there anything unusual on the radar or scanners?"

Moira shook her head. "No, nothing."

"Then he must be underwater and we obviously don't have sonar," Hank said.

Sean grinned suddenly. "Yes we do." Charlotte knew his plan immediately and removed her headset.

After Sean located the submarine, Erik was the next step. Charlotte stood behind him. He struggled as he tried to focus and so Charlotte told him calmly, _Remember: the point between rage and serenity_. She recalled the memory she had unearthed: Hanukah with his mother.

It steeled him and the submarine rose completely out of the water.

But it did not work well for long. The mutant that she knew as Riptide emerged from the submarine and whipped up a vortex-like storm, headed right for the jet.

"Erik, take my hand!" she yelled.

He ignored her until he had beached the submarine—by which point, Riptide's storm hit the jet. Then, he took her proffered hand and she pulled him inside the jet, just as it hit the sand. As it began to roll, he jumped on her back, pinning them magnetically to one wall of the jet, likely preventing a head injury or two in the process. Finally, the jet stilled and Erik lowered them down.

They stood and set about assisting the others get out of their safety belts.

"I read the teleporter's mind," she reported. "Shaw's drawing all the power out of his sub—he's turning himself into some kind of nuclear bomb!"

Moira nodded. "We've got no time. The Geiger counter is going out of control!"

"Alright, Moira, this is what we're going to do. Get on the radio, tell them to clear both fleets out immediately."

"I'm going in!" Erik decided.

"Beast, Havok, back him up!" she ordered. "I can guide you through once you're in, but I need you to shut down whatever's blocking me—then we just hope to God it's not too late for me to stop him."

Erik nodded. "Got it!"

"Good luck!" she shouted to them all. Then—"Raven, stop!"

"I'm going to help them!" her sister yelled.

Charlotte shook her head. "We don't have time for this. If anything comes in that entrance, you're taking care of it, yes?"

The shapeshifter made a face. "Fine," she muttered.

She nodded and focused on the others ahead while Moira went to the radio.

"_Erik, Shaw is in the middle of the vessel,_" she said aloud and mentally. "_That's the point my mind can't penetrate. We _have to_ assume that's where Shaw is._"

She watched as he made his way into the sub. "_That's the nuclear reactor_," she recognized. "_Disable it._"

He did and entered…

"_Erik, you're there—you've reached the void."_

_"Shaw's not here, Charlotte! He's not here—he's left the sub!"_

_"What? He's got to be there—it has to be, there's nowhere else he can be, keep looking!"_

_"And I'm telling you he's not! There's no one here, God damn it!"_

She watched as Erik turned and caught a glimpse of Shaw but then—

"Erik? Erik are you there?"

He wasn't.

"He's gone!" she told Moira. "He's gone into the void! I can't reach him there!"

He was gone, gone—oh, God. Erik had vanished. He hadn't been out of her mental reach for so long—his absence was like an ache. Then—

_There. _

"He's back!" she shouted, joyous and relieved.

"_Erik, whatever you're doing keep doing it!"_ she told him. "_It's starting to work! It's working!"_

The telepath told the CIA agent, "I'm starting to see him but I can't yet touch his mind."

Words came filtering in, splintered, from Shaw's mouth to Erik's mind as the window became clearer. _"…for you…embrace it…gates…don't want to hurt you…our time…we are the future…could be ours…"_

"_Everything you did,"_ Erik said to him, clear now, "_made me stronger, made me the weapon I am today._"

_You're not a weapon, Erik_, she told him, _you're not!_ He didn't listen.

"_It's the truth. I've known it all along._" She could see Shaw's smile at the words. "_You are my creator…" _And then she could see Erik lift the helmet from Shaw's head then—"_NOW, CHARLOTTE!"_


	7. Book 1: Chapter 7

**Book 1: **

**When Everything's Made to be Broken**

**_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
Cuz I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_**

**_And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cuz sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight."_**

**~ "Iris", Goo Goo Dolls**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Shaw's thoughts came flooding in and she shoved her mind to his, freezing his muscles entirely with effort.

"Are you okay?" Moira asked, concerned, from beside her.

"Moira, be quiet," she replied desperately. "I can only control this man for so long!" She watched as Erik came to stand before Shaw and took the helmet—

"Sorry Charlotte," he said softly.

_Erik, please! Be the better man, you don't—_

"But I don't trust you," Erik said.

And then he vanished as entirely as Shaw had. "No!" she gasped, feeling her friend slipping away from her, the divide beginning…

"Don't do this, Erik!" she screamed, hitting the wall furiously, ignoring Moira beside her.

Still, she watched from Shaw's eyes.

"_If you're in there_," Erik addressed Shaw, "_I want you to know I agree with every word you said. We are the future. But… unfortunately, you killed my mother._"

He held up a coin.

"_This is what we're going to do…_"

"No," she whispered fiercely, pacing. "Please, Erik, no…"

"_I'm going to count to three and I'm going to move the coin. One…"_

"Please, Erik," she whispered, fighting tears of betrayal.

"_…Two…_" She could see the coin coming closer, as easily as if it had been coming toward her head.

"_Three._"

And the coin entered her forehead, pushing though her skull, into her brain… She knew she was screaming, but refused to release Shaw, this last connection to Erik now…she wouldn't allow for the slightest chance and so remained latched to his mind…

Then the coin was gone, exited through the back of Shaw's head…and she felt his mind vanish as he died. Charlotte slumped against the wall of the jet, gasping for air.

"Erik," she whispered. Moira helped her up and they ran out of the jet in time to see Erik exit the sub, bringing Shaw's body with him.

"Today our fighting stops!" he yelled, levitating himself to the sand expertly. "Take off your blinders, brothers and sisters. The real enemy is out there! I feel their guns moving in the water, their metal targeting us. Americans, Soviets: humans, united in their fear of the unknown."

Charlotte walked toward him as he spoke and silently told Moira to hang back, just in case.

"The Neanderthal is running scared, my fellow mutants!" he looked to her finally. "Go ahead, Charlotte. Tell me I'm wrong."

She pursed her lips at what she heard and gave a nod to Moira, who ran back to the jet. But they ignored her plea over the radio. Charlotte closed her eyes sadly as they fired their missiles.

Erik stopped them and let them hang in the air because they only proved his point. He turned them.

Her throat tightened. "Erik, you said yourself that we are the better men!" she said urgently. "Now is the time to prove it. There are thousands of men on those ships—good, honest, innocent men! They're just following orders."

He shook his head. "I've been at the mercy of men following orders." Finally, he looked to her. "Never again." And he fired them.

"Erik, release them!"

He didn't.

"_NO_!" she screamed and tackled him to the sand, grabbing at his helmet.

Erik fought back. "I don't want to hurt you, don't make me!" he growled, elbowing her in her solar plexus, leaving her winded and gasping as he shoved her away.

The others, the children, moved to help—

"STAY BACK!" he yelled, sending them flying by the metal of their suits.

"No!" she said, jumping on him again, but he simply flipped them over and sat on her. "Don't touch them! Erik, stop the missiles! Stop this now! ERIK, _STOP_!"

He punched her in the jaw, nearly cracking it, and silenced her. Some of the missiles dropped to the water, thankfully, but not all—

Leaving her still reeling from the punch, he pushed off her and stood, saving the rest of the missiles and continuing their flight…

The shot surprised them all. No one had seen Moira sneak back with the gun. Erik didn't deflect the first, but it ricocheted off Shaw's helmet.

"NO!" Charlotte screamed, pushing herself off the sand as more shots came. Erik deflected them—

She gasped, but made no sound as a fierce, splitting pain shot through her back. The telepath hit the sand heavily on her stomach, gasping for air, trying to breathe. Moira froze and Erik shot to her side, kneeling and pulling the bullet out from her flesh.

Over the water, she saw the missiles explode in the air—not hitting the ships, thank God.

"_I'm so sorry, Charlotte, I'm so sorry!_" Erik said, eyes frantic as he grabbed her, flipped her onto her back and held her torso in his lap, cradling her head in his arms. He saw Moira approaching—"I said back off!"

The others, the children, stopped too.

He glared at Moira. "You. _You did this_," he said, raising a hand.

"No!" Charlotte gasped, reaching feebly to pull it back. "Erik, please! She didn't do this, Erik." She paused, knowing how much it would hurt him to hear it.

"You did," the professor said softly, regretfully.

His arm fell back down, hand resting gently over her heart, sparing the agent, and looked down at her, tears in his eyes. "Us turning on each other," he said thickly. "It's what they want. I tried to warn you, Liebling. I want you by my side. We're family, you and I. All of us, together, protecting each other. _We want the same thing, Char-lot-te_."

Erik's accent slipped—the first time she had heard him say her name with the German intonation aloud, outside of his mind. He searched her eyes, with regret, guilt, and something imploring in his gaze.

She laughed sadly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Oh, my love. I'm sorry…but we do not."

The pain, the regret in his eyes hurt her, even if she couldn't sense it. Reluctantly, he motioned for Moira to come over.

"Charlotte—I'm so sorry," she gasped.

Gently, they shifted holding her and Erik stood to address the others. She forced herself, through the pain, to listen. "Their society won't accept us. We form our own. The humans have played their hand. Now we get ready to play ours. Who's with me?"

Raven stared at him; he raised a hand to her. "No more hiding." She came over, but instead knelt beside Charlotte.

"You…you should go with him," she told her sister breathlessly. "It's what you want."

The shapeshifter had tears in her eyes too. "You promised me you would never read my mind."

"I know," Charlotte admitted softly. "I promised you a great many things, I'm afraid…I'm sorry."

She grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to it. Raven kissed her forehead and told Moira, "Take care of her."

And Charlotte watched her sister stand and take Erik's hand. Shaw's followers came too. Raven said to Hank, "And Beast, never forget: mutant and proud."

The telepath saw Erik glance once more at her over his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he mouthed.

She smiled at him sadly. "I know. Goodbye, love," she whispered.

And they were gone in a flash of sulfurous smoke.

If tears flowed fasted down her face, no one noticed.

The children rushed over. "Help her up," Moira told Hank. "We need to get her to a hospital!"

She grasped his arm and tried to stand but screamed instead.

"Wait, Charlotte, don't move—" he told her.

She shook her head, more tears rising as the pain increased. "I can't, I actually can't…I ca, I…I can't feel my legs," she gasped. "I _can't_ feel my legs…

"I can't feel my legs."

**END OF BOOK ONE**

* * *

**_"And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies.  
When everything feels like the movies,  
Yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive._**

And I don't want the world to see me  
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand.  
When everything's made to be broken,  
I just want you to know who I am."

**~ "Iris", Goo Goo Dolls**


	8. Book 2: Chapter 1

**Book 2:**

**Alone on the Water**

**_"Sorrow found me when I was young,  
Sorrow waited, sorrow won.  
Sorrow that put me on the pills,  
It's in my honey, it's in my milk.  
Don't leave my hyper heart alone on the water,  
Cover me in rag and bones, sympathy.  
'Cause I don't wanna get over you.  
I don't wanna get over you."_**

**~ "Sorrow", The National**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**_"Sorrow found me when I was young…"_**

**~ "Sorrow", The National**

The sleekly designed wheelchair moved fluidly: easy to learn, easy to maneuver.

She loathed it on sight.

"What do you think, Professor?"

She smiled tightly. "It is wonderful, Hank. You've outdone yourself once more. Thank you."

The blue-haired mutant grinned. "No problem. Glad you like it. I was thinking we could start working on building Cerebro II soon, if you'd like?"

Again, she nodded. "That sounds great."

* * *

It was a week after the entire debacle. Charlotte was out of the hospital now after a quick physical recovery.

She had resolutely left her tears on the beach and refused to shed anymore. It didn't mean she no longer felt the urge to scream.

The doctors had said…well, they'd said a lot but it boiled down to the fact that the bullet had practically severed her spinal cord and she would never walk again.

While hospitalized, Hank had made the time to build her a wheelchair before she was released. The others pitched in with the Westchester house, doing their best to accommodate her new lifestyle. She returned home to find the furniture rearranged, the elevators inspected to be in perfect working order, the kitchen reworked, and her bathroom almost entirely remodeled.

She was touched at their determination and work ethic.

Earlier that day, after arriving home, she had wiped Moira's memory of the entire event and sent her home.

The house was left with only Hank, Alex, and Sean. It felt empty without Erik and Raven.

Charlotte didn't allow herself to ponder upon such things.

In the meantime, she focused on making the dream she had showed Erik a reality. And so she began setting about to make the Xavier mansion a school for mutants. Though they didn't have Cerebro, they still had some print outs and coordinates they had not had time to search for. They could run through that list for students and, hopefully, teachers.

That was the main concern before even making sure the mansion could be made into a school. She needed teachers. While Hank seemed very willing to be one, Alex and Sean were hardly teaching material. Not yet.

Alex, though, had mentioned wishing to find his younger brother, Scott. Perhaps they could recruit him as one of their first students.

Her mind swam with plans and ideas. So she put aside her impediment to focus on creating a school.

* * *

The first note came very shortly after she returned from the hospital.

She found it on her desk. It was in an envelope, which was sealed with wax. She knew its sender on sight but opened it anyways.

_I'm sorry. _

It made her throat tight but she restrained her tears. She had no doubt that it was from him, that he most likely sent Azazel to deliver it.

It was unlikely, improbable…but she did it anyways, just in case.

In a sealed note of her own, she wrote a reply. It took her three tries before her handwriting is suitable and you couldn't tell her hand was trembling as she wrote it.

_I know. I forgive you, Erik. _

The next morning, when she came into her study, the note was gone from her desk. She smiled at that, daring to hope.

Just in case, she tucked his note away in the bottom desk drawer and locked it. Just in case there aren't any more, she told herself.

There were more.

Two days later, his reply came.

_How can you forgive me? How can you possibly?_

She could sense the guilt behind his words. So she merely says: _Wouldn't you?_

Nearly a week later, he wrote back: _I would forgive only you, Liebling._

* * *

Time goes on.

Slowly, Charlotte adjusted to the wheelchair. She forced herself to—forced herself to adapt to this limitation, forced herself to learn her house again, forced herself to change her daily habits as needed.

A month after returning to Westchester from the hospital, the boys had finished building Cerebro II. While she had rested, recovered, and adjusted wearily to her new life, they had finished necessary renovations to the mansion and the new Cerebro.

They showed her to the new device proudly as she studied it. Hank had improved his design to make it more powerful and effective; the young mutant was full of more pride now than Charlotte had ever known him to be before.

"It's perfect, boys," she said as she looked around the immense, round room. "You did beautifully."

Sean and Alex grinned now too.

"Was a son of a bitch to finish," Sean said with a mischievous grin. "Woulda been easier if Erik was—"

Alex smacked the back of Banshee's head sharply with a furious glare. Hank let out a low growl.

Charlotte winced visibly. "It's alright," she said quietly. "You didn't intend to, Sean." The telepath reached up and patted the redhead's shoulder as she sent a wave of calm to him. Her smile gave away none of her heartache. "Now, let's test out Cerebro, shall we?"

She reached for the helmet, placed it atop her head, and reached out with her mind.

Instantly, her mind spread wide and she gasped slightly at how much more powerful Cerebro was. Her normal range was over two hundred and fifty miles and now…now, her mind was stretching to encompass the entire planet.

She could feel them all, feel every human and mutant alive, feel them all connected, feel their pain and joy, their love and sorrow, their compassion and hatred: the dual beauty and the ugliness of the human condition.

With a shuddering breath that brought her back to herself, Charlotte focused on that in Westchester.

She focused on the room she stood in, upon that spherical structure underground, and the five consciousnesses within.

The telepath froze.

Five...?

But yes, there were five including herself.

Herself, Hank, Alex, Sean, and ...? But the fifth was faint and gentle, not quite fully conscious, but full of warmth and contentment.

Charlotte tore the helmet from her head.

"Professor?" Hank exclaimed in worry.

"I'm—I–I need a moment, boys, please," she said and only just realized there were tears down her cheeks. "Excuse me."

She wheeled herself quickly into the corridor and to a nearby bathroom, in which she locked herself before going to the toilet.

Her stomach churned with unease before it finally gave up her breakfast to the porcelain bowl. After flushing the toilet, the professor stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror: pale faced with panicked eyes and tearstained cheeks.

Cautiously, she lifted the hem of her button-up blouse and inspected the smooth plain of her stomach before laying a tentative hand over her flesh.

"Oh," Charlotte whispered.

_Oh._


	9. Book 2: Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**_"…Sorrow waited, sorrow won…"  
_~ "Sorrow", The National**

* * *

The boys were waiting worriedly in the hallway.

"Are you alright, Professor?" Hank asked nervously. "Was Cerebro—"

She shook her head and smiled proudly. "No, Cerebro worked beautifully, Hank. I could reach all over the world, literally. Everywhere. It was a dizzying experience; that's all. A little overwhelming. I will need practice to get used to it."

"Alright, Professor," Alex said reluctantly. "Maybe you should rest for a bit. You're looking kinda pale."

The telepath was reluctant. "Are you sure? We were going to work on your aim on moving targets..."

Sean shrugged. "I'll help him, Prof. You take a break—we'll be back in before dinner," he said and they rushed off.

Charlotte then turned to the blue-haired mutant. "Hank, can I speak with you in my study? It is a...sensitive matter."

"Of course," he replied, slightly baffled, but wheeled her into the privacy of her study. (Both ignored the still-abandoned chess game in one corner of the room.) "What is it?"

She sucked in a breath. "I'm pregnant."

Emotions waged war within him for control for a long minute of tense silence. Disbelief, anger, awe, fear, hope...

Finally he sighed. "I don't need to ask about the father, do I?" he asked with reasonable calm.

She winced. "I…no," the telepath replied softly, eyes cast downward in sad recollections.

Hank nodded to himself. "And I assume you are keeping it." His tone was certain and asked for no confirmation but she gave it anyway.

"Yes, I...I will."

"How far along?" he asked, looking at her flat stomach curiously. "How did you know?"

The telepath laid a small hand over the approximate area that the fetus was. "Little more than two months. It was…it was in the period that we were recruiting. I never even suspected it until I tested Cerebro. I was focusing on the room itself and realized I felt four minds instead of three that I realized."

He studied her for a long moment. "Are you going to tell him?" his voice was gently soft like his fur.

At this, the professor bit her lip. "I don't—I don't know. What would I say? '_I know you betrayed us and we're now enemies, but I'm pregnant with your child, Erik_'?"

* * *

Charlotte had always adored children and had planned on having a couple of her own, but she had forced herself to let go of that idea after waking up in a hospital, paralyzed, after Cuba. She had been lucky with the bullet—far luckier than anyone had initially assumed. The telepath was unsure of how the fetus was untouched by the surgery, blood loss, and paralysis at all and still alive and well, but she was grateful. (Perhaps, her mind wondered, mutation had something to do with the fetus's resilience. After all, not all mutations presented themselves during puberty of high-stress situations. Her own had been since she was a toddler at least and Raven was naturally blue.)

Pregnancy with paralysis was an uncommon thing, admittedly, but she was not the first to do it.

The professor knew how he or she had been conceived.

When they had been out searching for and recruiting mutants, there had been a night at the hotel when Charlotte had inquired if Erik played chess and he had eagerly accepted the invitation. The metallokinetic had produced a bottle of scotch and...

Well. It had not been the first time Charlotte had ended up in bed with a man after a long night of drinking, but it was surely the last. She remembered unfortunately little and might have thought it a dream were it not for the fact that she had woken shortly after to find Erik and herself still there together. She had left for her room, worried for his reaction and the impact upon their friendship, but when Charlotte saw him the next morning, he never said a word of it nor thought of it when she was listening.

So she had let it go and never sought to bring it up, content to let the past lie as it was. Biology apparently had other ideas.

Fearful though she may have been for Erik's reaction, Charlotte was not disappointed or perturbed by the fact that she was pregnant with Erik's child. For all his faults, Charlotte still cared for him immensely, far more than she had ever cared for a man before. Possibly more than she felt for Raven—which is to say, not an inconsiderable or ignorable amount.

And to realize that she could feel her child's mind growing everyday...it was a wondrous thing. As soon as she touched his or her mind, Charlotte was in love with this tiny creation within her womb. It felt like a miracle at exactly the moment that she needed one most.

* * *

Time flew quickly at the Xavier Estate in Westchester.

The boys took the news better than expected. Sean had always wanted a little sister (he made a bet with Alex that it was) and Alex had a much younger brother once, whom he missed immensely (and whom Charlotte had taken to trying to locate with Cerebro). They asked nothing about the father, assuming correctly in their minds, and bore her no grudge. With Hank planning it, Alex and Sean quickly took it upon themselves to transform one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery.

They heard little of Erik and the others. Charlotte was glad.

"Magneto" (as he was becoming known as) still wrote to her and she wrote back, but said little. They were both busy: Erik with founding his group and Charlotte with preparing the school and dealing with her pregnancy.

She did not plan upon seeking him out or telling him—about her paralysis or pregnancy.

He had left her, left the children—abandoned them. He had no right to her, to the boys, to the child.

* * *

Charlotte had a slew of appointments to monitor the fetus's development. She was careful as she could, cautious to do everything to protect the small life that she and Erik had created.

It helped that she could look after the baby through her telepathy. She already felt like she knew her child.

When the fetus was four months old, Hank had used a machine in the recently-refitted infirmary and Charlotte had heard her child's heartbeat for the first time—the gentle, constant beat that, for a long minute, had drowned out the rest of the world to the telepath.

Her stomach grew as the weeks went by and her child aged. Charlotte took to speaking aloud to the child after she realized they liked listening to her voice.

Half way into her pregnancy, there came two landmarks. The professor and the boys had been eating dinner (courtesy of Hank that night) when Charlotte had frozen as one of her hands shot to her swollen stomach.

"Professor?" inquired Sean nervously.

A smile split across her face. "The baby—kicked!" she exclaimed and pulled up the hem of her shirt to lay her palm over her abdomen. "He—she—is kicking!"

In that moment, as she crowed with happiness with her small, cobbled-together family, Charlotte could almost forget the losses, betrayals, and pain they had suffered. It was the first time in months that she had so unreservedly smiled and laughed, so happy was she that she could forget just for a moment that Erik and Raven had left them, that she was paralyzed. For a moment, as she, Hank, Alex, and Sean took their turns feeling the baby's kicking, Charlotte was happy for the first time in months.

Two weeks later was at an appointment when her doctor revealed that the child within her womb was a little girl as they stared at the ultrasound on a screen. The soon-to-be mother studied the image, counting toes and fingers, studying the indistinct features.

She had them print copies of the image to take home, where she framed a print and hung proudly in her study.

* * *

Charlotte—when not working with the boys, planning for the school, or looking for other mutants—spent much of her time imagining her future with a daughter.

Tried to predict that if she _was_ a mutant (a very high probability), what her daughter would be able to do. Would she take after her father and have an affinity for metals? Would she be a telepath like Charlotte? Or maybe another form of mutation related to manipulating others' minds? Possibly even something like moving things with her mind.

It was pointless guessing but it amused the professor and enthralled her.

Would she have Charlotte's blue eyes or Erik's green-grey? Would she have Erik's whipcord leanness or take after the telepath's softer build? Would she have the chocolate shade of Charlotte's hair or the dark auburn tint of Erik's? Would she have Erik's cheekbones or her mother's rounder facial structure?

Which of her parents would she take after in her temperament? Charlotte's patience and forgiveness? Or Erik's steadfast focus? Would she have her father's steady confidence? Her mother's arrogance?

(Charlotte had no doubt that the child would be intelligent. Between Erik's strategic mind and Charlotte's analytical tendencies, it seemed inevitable.)

Her mind produced a thousand possibilities and she loved every one.

* * *

She was two weeks before her due date when it happened.

Initially, she thought it was cramps like before, nothing more. Bent over her desk, Charlotte rubbed her back absently and reached, by habit, to the familiarity and comfort of her little girl's mind.

What she found was pure, instinctive, undefined terror and pain. Charlotte's eyes widened as she realized that the pain in her abdomen was far worse than cramps. "_HANK!_" she screamed. "_I need your help! NOW!_"

Hank, soon followed by Alex and moment later Sean, burst in. "Is she—"

"Something's wrong!" she exclaimed. "The hospital—_now!_"

* * *

**Author's Note: For those of you asking when/how this happened, there will be more explanations later on. For now, bear with me...**


	10. Book 2: Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**_"Sorrow they put me on the pill  
It's in my honey, it's in my milk."_**

**~ "Sorrow", The National**

* * *

Later, the telepath remembered very little after arriving at the hospital and being wheeled into a room.

There were flashes of pain, brief recollections of receiving injections, glimpses of grim doctors and nurses, the overwhelming disinfectant smell everywhere, a glimpse of blood, a half-formed memory of blood and pain—

And pain, pain, pain—not her own, but from a mind that she knew well enough that it may as well have been. Even in her unconsciousness, she felt her tiny unborn child's terror and overwhelming pain before—

_Gone. Snuffed out like a candle. Fizzled out like a spark. _

_A flame smothered in pain and fear, deprived of oxygen, until it was extinguished. _

She felt the little life die and it hurt a thousand times more than feeling Shaw's death.

Charlotte stopped fighting the anesthetic and allowed herself to be pulled under the blanket of sleep, wishing it were the cloak of death.

* * *

She was back in the Westchester mansion in a week, still under heavy painkillers and narcotics. She slept. She had no energy for anything else. The doctors, the nurses, Hank, Alex, Sean—they had all watched her with pitying, sad eyes. She couldn't bring herself to care.

A day after being taken into the hospital, she was woken gently from the anesthetics so the doctor could tell her.

"Placental abruption", they called it—the reason her little baby had died. The placenta pulled away from the uterus wall too much. She had died while Charlotte was slipping to unconsciousness because of the sedatives. The doctor had asked if she wanted to hold her. Charlotte said, "Yes"—her first word since waking up.

She'd cradled the swaddled bundle to her bosom. The infant's skin was cold and mottled red. Her face was calm, her eyes closed. There was a small tuft of dark auburn hair on her head and her face was slimmer than most plump baby faces. The professor counted each hand and foot: ten fingers and ten toes. Perfect.

But Charlotte would never know what color her daughter's eyes were or what mutation she had or if she would have taken after Charlotte or Erik.

She would never know her daughter at all.

* * *

They buried the infant in Charlotte's favorite gardens with a small, smooth stone marker for the grave. If Charlotte'd had the energy, she might have thought, sadly, that it wasn't far from their daughter's grave that the spot where Charlotte had helped Erik find the place between rage and serenity, had unearthed that hidden memory.

As it was, the telepath was numb to the entire thing, staring in shock as the tiny coffin was lowered into the ground.

Once they returned to the mansion, Charlotte made only one stop to leave a photo in her office before going to bed and locked herself in.

Only then did she succumb to her sorrow and the pent-up tears pour down her face.

* * *

Five days later brought unexpected and unwelcome guests.

Hank saw them approach and stood on the steps at the front of the mansion. "You are not welcome here," he said lowly.

But Magneto and Mystique—frazzled, frantic, worried—were more stubborn than that.

"I need to see Charlotte," the metallokinetic replied. His voice was hoarse and his eyes were red.

Behind the blue-haired mutant, Alex arrived and glared at the two intruders. Hank growled in warning. "You have no right," he spat. "You have _no right_ to be here."

From his pocket, Erik withdrew a folded photograph and held it out to Hank grudgingly. The younger man recognized the ultrasound photo quickly. Underneath the photo, in the professor's neat calligraphy was "_Her name was Anya Xavier._"

"Tell me," Erik said in a snarl.

For all his bite, Hank could hear the desperation that colored his tone. "She was yours, if you must know, Magneto," he bit out grudgingly.

He stared at Hank in confusion. "And she...she was going to keep her?"

"You know the Professor," Alex spat. "What do you think?"

Raven was pale in mute horror. "What—what happened?" she asked in a raw voice, feeling oh so small.

"Technically, placental abruption," Hank replied. "She was two weeks from full term when the placenta and her uterus wall were separated—by no fault of her own—and the baby died."

Erik stared down at the photo in his hands. "Anya," he whispered, tracing the ambiguous figure. He looked up to the boys with burning, fraught eyes. "Charlotte—is she...where...How is she?"

A snort came from behind Alex and Hank as Sean came up. "She _felt_ her child die through her telepathy. She _felt_ her own unborn daughter's death...and you have to ask that? The Prof's locked herself in her room, probably crying but determined not to let any of us see her like that, and slowly starving herself. And you're asking_ how she is_?"

"Let me see her," Erik beseeched, stepping forward.

Hank growled a warning as the metallokinetic moved closer. "No. You won't. We have only just begun to get her to eat normally for the first time in days. She's making progress. Seeing you two will only cause her more guilt and pain. So you two are going to leave and get the fuck out of here—before she sees you and has a setback," he replied. Erik tried to speak up but Hank spoke over him. "_Don't_. Don't argue with me. You have no right to speak here, much less in regards to Charlotte. You weren't here when she found out, when she had her appointments, when she felt Anya move for the first time, when she found out it was a girl. You weren't here for _any_ of it except the very beginning before you left and abandoned us—_both of you_. You have no right to even _ask_."

"If I had known—"

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe she didn't want you to know?" Alex spat."She writes you letters still, right? She's never said as much but...it seems like you and her wouldn't be able to have a clean break after...everything. You were too close. I—we were sure you two were exchanging letters. She never said anything about it, did she? No. Not until today because the baby _died_. The Professor said nothing before. It's because you—both of you—had no right to involve yourself in the Professor or her child's lives. _You_ left _her_, left _us_—remember? You left us there on that beach abandoned! You left _Charlotte_ there _paralyzed AND pregnant_!"

Erik paled. "Did she...know? Then?"

"No," Hank replied calmly. "She didn't realize until we tried out Cerebro and she felt one too many minds in the room."

The metallokinetic was not relieved. "Oh _gott_," he murmured as an epiphany struck. "She was pregnant when...in, in Cuba? When she—when I did—when she was paralyzed? _Verdammt_, how did she survive and not miscarry?"

Hank shrugged. "She was incredibly lucky; there's no other explanation. I really don't know. Probability and statistics say she should have lost the fetus, especially after the surgery. The Professor suspected it may have been something to do with mutation."

_A little miracle_, Erik thought sadly,_ but a short-lived one._

"Please," he asked softly. "Just let us see her, know she's safe...I don't have any right to, but I..._please_."

Something earnest in his expression made Hank soften. "She is asleep right now, actually, and I would thank you not to wake her but...you may. I trust you realize that if you wake or harm her, you won't be getting out of the mansion alive."

Relief flooded onto his face like water bursting forth from a dam. "Thank you," he whispered. "I won't; you have my word on that."

Raven nodded, silent. The gratefulness upon her blue features said it all.

Reluctantly, Hank led the pair, with Alex and Sean trailing behind as a guard, to the professor's room.

The blue haired mutant took pause outside the door. "One at a time, if you will?"

Magneto and Mystique shared a glance. "Go," she said simply.

He shook his head. "No. She is your sister."

"She's your—" but Raven cut herself off as she struggled for a proper word. Coming up empty, she sighed and went to the door before slowly entering.

Erik waited outside in the hall, pacing under the boys' careful eyes for five minutes before Mystique left the room, grim-faced. She nodded to Erik, who went to the door.

The metallokinetic drew in a long breath before going in and closing the door behind him. Charlotte's room was very much the same, save for the tiny figure on the bed.

Hesitantly, he sat in the chair at her bedside and studied her.

Charlotte had always been the type of person to fill the room. Her optimism, her cheer, her foolish, wholehearted faith in the good in people—it had filled whatever room she was in with warmth.

That had nothing to do with her telepathy. It was only to do with her steadfast heart rather than her mind.

Now, Erik could see none of that faith or warmth in her face.

She was so much thinner now. Her gentle features were now sharp and whittled down by the cruel knife of hardship and grief. Dark circles were etched into her skin beneath her eyes, stained slightly by still-damp tear tracks.

Gently, he took her hand, staring down at it in guilt. It looked—brittle, weak—

_Breakable._

More than that, he realized as his eyes traveled over her sallow face. She wasn't just breakable now. It was too late for that. She was _shattered_.

Before, he could hear her unspoken, unwritten sorrow after his and Raven's departure, but this was a different loss. This hit Charlotte at her heart, in Charlotte's weakness for children.

She had been right. Erik had always tried to protect her, ever since that night when she had fished him from the ocean to stop him from drowning himself in an attempt to kill Schmit/Shaw. When he left and had formed the Brotherhood, one of the first laws he had laid down was that they, as mutants, were not to harm other mutants. Especially, he had added pointedly, not Charlotte Xavier—never mind that she was the enemy, never mind that she was a telepath, never mind that she was one of the most powerful mutants in the world. She was not to be touched.

But here they were, eight months after he had left. Despite that it was not his fault (well, they shared the blame for her pregnancy, but he could not have prevented or caused their daughter's death), guilt plagued his mind.

The metallokinetic didn't really remember the night Anya had been conceived. They had, together, drunk two bottles of scotch and he had woken in the morning Half-dressed on his bed. He had wondered if he'd indulged his libido alone that night, but did not even consider the possibility that he and Charlotte had...well.

Memories of the night before were muddled because of the alcohol. There were flashes of skin-on-skin contact—the ghost of lips across his own—a flicker of desire and pleasure—the feel of fingers twining in his hair and his own hands buried in much longer, softer hair—the sense of contentment—the split-second recollection of hands caressing lightly over his arms, his chest, his stomach.

He wondered if he had dreamed up the feel of lips sweeping over the ugly numbers on his forearm.

Several days later, he managed to recall lying on his stomach on his bed and looking over to see Charlotte: asleep, sprawled beside him, shirt only half buttoned, skirt hiked up to show her thighs, hair everywhere, one arm flung across his back, a small smile gently curling her red lips.

At the time, he wondered if it had just been a fantasy created by his drunken, lonely mind. Charlotte had never given away any hint that anything had happened so he had written it off as a dream.

Now, looking back at everything, he'd only done her wrong.

And if he stayed, it would only cause her more pain, doubtlessly. There was nothing he could truly do here to help. But, out there with the Brotherhood, he was fighting for mutants' place in the world, trying to make it safe for mutants—trying, once more, to protect Charlotte.

Erik stood and paused only to press a kiss to her pale forehead. "Take care, Liebling," he whispered and turned to leave.

It was only as he and Mystique left the gates that he realized he had completely forgotten his helmet before they came to Westchester.


	11. Book 2: Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**_"Don't leave my hyper heart alone on the water  
Cover me in rag and bone sympathy…"_**

**~ "Sorrow", the National**

It took Charlotte weeks to return to even a pale semblance to her usual self.

She doubted she would ever be quite the same, but the telepath forced herself to move along, to focus on the school, to continue her work.

* * *

Once the numbing sorrow passed, anger had taken its place.

Her grieving had been for Anya, yes, but some of it had been the vestiges of what she had locked away after Cuba, after Erik, after the wheelchair.

She wanted to scream, to break something, to run until she couldn't anymore. Which only made her angrier because she _couldn't_. She was trapped in the mansion, trapped in this damned chair. For the rest of her life, she would be confined to this chair.

Instinct told her to let out some of the bottled and concentrated solution of misery and fury, to let it leak out through her telepathy, but the professor kept a rigid lock on that.

And Erik…

Well, Charlotte didn't know how she felt about him. She had avoided thinking about him too much, had focused on the baby instead, but now, without Anya…

She didn't want to blame him, not really. She logically knew he did not intend on hitting her with the deflected bullet. She understood that he would never intentionally hurt her like this. But knowing that did nothing to stem the trembling fury she felt.

Erik was the second friend she had ever made—her _best_ friend, she had thought. He was her co-conspirator, her partner-in-crime, her partner (full stop). He was one of the most interesting people she'd ever come across—she'd known that the instant she felt his mind as he tried to sink the submarine. He was one of the bravest, most cunning, most loyally determined men.

He was—he was late night chess games, shared glasses of old scotch, long nights of philosophy and debate. He was a quiet companion with unflinching ears willing to listen without judgment, long hours spent discussing mutations and the possibilities thereof. He was unquestionable the person she had been closest to—ever, even Raven. He was the reassuring mind, always rational and calm, always ready to act, always trusting her, always aware of how often she slipped into his mind but never saying anything about it. He was "my friend". He was "my love."

He was her greatest, most trusted friend. He was her confidant. He was her safe place for her telepathy. He was her one-time lover. He was the father of her (stillborn) child. He was the only man she had ever really loved.

And he had betrayed them, left them, abandoned them.

Charlotte's anger had abated very quickly, leaving her wistful and lonely.

Because she could forgive him. She would always forgive him; she always had (even though she knew of everything he had done in the past, it didn't matter).

She forgave him for it all.

Because he was Erik.

And if she couldn't forgive him, then how was she to forgive herself?

* * *

All of this flew through her tired mind one evening in the library as she studied the abandoned chess game there. With shaking hands, she poured herself a glass of scotch.

Charlotte wanted to hate him. No one could possibly blame her for it, either. He wouldn't be undeserving of it. She had every right to.

She wanted to hate him but she knocked back the glass and drank it down, resolving to hate herself instead.

* * *

One day, Alex had noticed her staring out a window to the lawn below and had inquired, "Are you alright, Professor?"

She gave him a sad smile. "Did you know," she said as she turned back to the window, "In the English language, there are orphans and widows, but there is no word for a mother who has lost her child?"

The blond boy had stared at her for a long minute before wrapping a careful arm around her shoulder. "Professor, you may not have Anya, but you will always be a mother to the rest of us. You know that, right? I know it's not much in comparison, but you're still the best mother I've ever known."

Tears filled her blue eyes as she smiled to him. "Oh, Alex. Right now, you three and the school are the world to me. You boys are the only thing that keeps me going some days."

* * *

Slowly, slowly, she began to recover. It was two months before the boys coaxed laughter from her. With them, she began to move on.

At Hank's insistence, she returned to the academic world for a time, but her heart was not in it. She had her degree and now was the time to do something with it. She wrote papers and attended lectures but never lingered. Being a woman in the academic world had already been a fight. Being a disabled woman in the academic world was an even more tiring fight. But she persevered, retaining her reputation and gaining more repute and respect.

In the aftermath of Cuba was the fact that the existence of mutants was finally known to governments and could now be fully acknowledged. As a well-known professor of genetics, specializing in mutations, she made an effort to speak to leaders to clarify about mutants. She did not want Erik to be right about what they would do when they found out. In fact, they were too baffled, too shocked to do anything on those grounds yet. It came to a light publicly very soon afterwards and soon, the world knew about mutants. Some were hailed as heroes. Many remained hidden still.

Others were detrimental and preferred causing violence and trouble rather than fostering understanding and tolerance. She was chilled to discover Erik was among these. "The Brotherhood", his group called themselves.

Whenever there were anti-mutant actions, it seemed that the Brotherhood followed to strike back. It made her heart heavy to witness it.

As they did so, Charlotte became the US government's go-to consultant on all matters mutant, even if they did not know her as one. More often than not, she found herself discussing the Brotherhood's actions and trying to remind the government that not all mutants were like the Brotherhood: anti-government, violent, prejudiced.

She admitted publicly to be in the acquaintance of many mutants, but said nothing about her own powers. The fact that she was paraplegic seemed to make others doubt she was anything more than a genetics professor.

* * *

Renovations began too. Dormitories for students were made in an entire wing of the mansion. Another wing was remade into classrooms and labs. The library was enlarged and adapted to be a study hall as well. Outside, they had created a special basketball court that hid the hangar below. In the sublevel, they outfitted the bunker into a training room. Of course, Charlotte had ensured there were many secret halls and emergency exits, in case of the worst scenario.

The school didn't open for five years until they finished with the renovation and had tracked down a few teachers.

Slowly, slowly, they managed to get a couple students, who had nowhere else to go and take them in.

And even more slowly, the mansion began to feel like a home again.

* * *

The notes lengthened with time to letters.

After some time, they began a slow chess game, with a move attached to the end of every letter. If people noticed the chessboard set up mid-game in the professor's office, no one ever asked who her opponent was.

_Some days_, he wrote her a couple years into their correspondence, _I wonder why you bother continuing to write to me. More often I defer asking because I am glad that you do, no matter your motivations for doing so._

She replied honestly. _Oh, my love. I write because it is my only contact with you, because you remain my dearest friend. My single greatest regret is—and has always been—losing you._

It had taken several days for him to reply to that. _If I had one wish, it would be to change this. To live in a world in which I did not shoot you on the beach and we were on the same side once more, where any children of ours could be safe. _

* * *

They never mentioned Anya directly.

* * *

As Erik's Brotherhood became more and more active and violent, Charlotte found herself deploying her own team to parry their efforts, to defend innocent people. She could not go herself on account of her wheelchair, but she watched and assisted mentally where she could.

The students knew of the Brotherhood and "Magneto", knew of the war that would soon come. Charlotte prevented them from discovering about it personally and did not allow any of them to join her team's efforts against them. She did not keep them in the dark, however. She was honest and told them about their "enemies".

They discovered their Headmistress's past less easily than that.

Of course, they heard about the professor's baby daughter that had died, but mainly because of the small grave in one of the gardens.

At dinner or in classes, they might occasionally hear stories involving a man named Erik, but whenever someone asked the adults about it, they clammed up. The professor, they soon realized, took those inquiries the worst, though she hid it. They theorized to themselves that perhaps he had died, too.

They did not know about the truth for several years.


	12. Book 2: Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**_"…'cos I don't wanna get over you,  
I don't wanna get over you…"_**

**~ "Sorrow", The National**

* * *

Ororo had been outside one Sunday afternoon, working on their homework for Hank's class, when she heard a great clamor from the front gates of the school. As they watched, the gates opened on their own volition and allowed a group of people to enter.

As the group came closer, the student recognized them from a photo in a newspaper article.

She ran into the mansion and was grateful to find Hank in the nearby hallway. "Hank! The Brotherhood—they're here!" she exclaimed. "Or some of them—they're here—out front—"

The blue haired mutant hurried to the door, but paused and said, "Go inside in case this gets messy, Ororo. Quickly." Reluctantly, she did, though she watched from a cracked window.

Hank folded his arms as he waited on the front steps as the group approached. Ororo studied them as they neared. A helmeted man in his forties that she knew as Magneto; a blue-skinned, red-haired woman; a red-skinned man dressed in a sharp suit.

"What do you want, _Magneto_?" Hank asked, saying the name with a bitter edge.

The man was unperturbed by the vehement tone. "What happened to Charlotte?" It took Ororo a moment to realize he meant Professor X.

Alex soon joined Hank. "Do you mean before or after Cuba and Anya?" he asked coldly.

Staring out the window, Ororo tried to remember any reference before to Cuba but could think of nothing that would be so significant.

Magneto frowned momentarily before schooling his features to impassiveness. "You know very well what I mean, Alex. Within the past week, what has happened to her?"

The two teachers shared an alarmed glance. "What makes you think something's wrong?" Alex asked defensively.

Magneto snorted. "I have been corresponding with Charlotte for some time now. She never takes more than a day to reply unless she has given a warning beforehand. Something is obviously wrong; she has not replied in a week."

After a long moment, Hank sighed. "If we can trust you not to harm anyone while you are here, then you had better come in."

The two students exchanged a shocked look before they watched Hank led the three inside. Alex followed them, as if to keep an eye on them, but called over his shoulder, "Ororo, it's impolite to eavesdrop. I thought you had homework to do."

* * *

Hank led them to the sitting room and motioned for them to sit. "I'll be back momentarily," he said and went upstairs to Charlotte's room. He knocked quickly and entered.

"Professor?" he said quietly. "We have a few...visitors who want to see you."

She coughed heavily and asked hoarsely, "Who?"

"Magneto and Mystique," he replied. "And, um, Azazel, though I think he was their transport."

"Erik and Raven," she whispered to herself. The telepath nodded. "Alright, I'll see them in my study."

He did and wheeled the chair from her room down the hall to her study. She went to her desk and found several letters atop her desk, unopened. "Send them in, please, Hank," she asked. He nodded and went to retrieve them. While he did, she skimmed the letters she had missed.

Several minutes later, the door opened.

She smiled up at her guests. "Erik, Raven," she greeted warmly. "Come in, please." They did. Relief was on his face, reluctance on hers.

It had been more ten years since they had spoken face to face. Neither of them knew of the full extent of the injuries she had left that beach with.

"Why don't you both sit? Now, I must apologize for not replying to your letters, love. I was ill with pneumonia," she explained. "I am a bit more susceptible to it now. I was on bed rest for several days. That is why you got no reply. I never got your letters until now. I apologize for the worry. This is the first I've been out of my rooms in a few days."

Charlotte wheeled the chair out from behind the desk to see them.

"Oh, _gott_," Erik whispered, a hand covering his mouth.

Her sister's mouth parted in shock. "Please tell me that is because of the pneumonia," Raven said softly.

The telepath clenched her eyes shut and shook her head slightly. "It's not."

"Char, please stand up," the shapeshifter said shakily. _Fear—denial—no, no, no—can't be—desperation—please, Charlotte—_ Her thoughts were in an uproar as she stared at her once-sister.

"_I can't_," the telepath snapped quietly. "I can't stand up."

Erik sat down into a chair in horror. "How...how long?"

She closed her eyes. "You know the answer, love. When I last saw you...that was the last time I stood."

He gave a pained noise. "I did this." The professor opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off. "_Don't._ You told me as much ten years ago. I did this." He took a shuddering breath. "Charlotte," he said roughly. "Why did you never mention...?"

"Because I knew what your reaction would be," she replied and smiled sadly. "You weren't the only ones who left the beach unchanged," she said quietly, but then reached for them. "Come here, Raven, give your sister a hug."

The blue woman did and hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "And...I go by Mystique now," she added quietly.

"Yes, I've heard," the professor said with a small laugh and looked to the other. "Erik?"

Carefully, he came to her side, bent down, and embraced her gently, as if afraid she might break—afraid he would cause her more pain than he had already. "You should have told me. You let me live in ignorance of this for more than ten years."

"Oh, my love," she said, holding him there tightly. "I knew it would only hurt you more." She released him and he settled back into the chair.

Neither visitor replied for a moment. Mystique looked out the wide office windows to the sprawling campus below. "The school looks wonderful," she remarked. "Just like you dreamed."

Charlotte nodded proudly as she gazed out over her school. "Yes, I'm proud of it. It is missing a few important pieces, but otherwise, yes, it is very near that which I dreamed it could be."

Mystique momentarily wondered what she meant by missing pieces—if she meant Anya, if she meant Erik, if she meant her sister, if she meant all three.

"How are your students?" she inquired politely.

"Few, but well," the professor replied with a fond smile. "We have full staff now so we will be recruiting new students during the summer."

Her sister nodded, but glanced at Magneto. "It was good to see you again, Charlotte, but I'll go now." She stood and embraced Charlotte once more. "I hope you recover quickly. Good luck with your school."

Charlotte nodded. "Thank you, Raven. And...stay safe, please."

"No promises," she replied with a small smile and left Charlotte and Erik alone.

Silence filled the office for a moment. Charlotte wheeled her chair to sit beside him where he sat in the armchair across from her desk. "I apologize for worrying you, love," she told him, "but I am glad to see you again."

He nodded. "It is good to see you again as well." Erik studied her face—aged ten years since he had last seen her, with silver threading her dark brown hair. There were gentle lines around her eyes and mouth. Her eyes had remained the same blue as ever, if slightly sadder as she met his gaze. "You're getting old," he noticed quietly.

She laughed softly. A hand went to his temple, where his hair, longer than it had been before, was beginning to turn white. "Yes, we both are, aren't we?"

He nodded in agreement. He felt older than his forty-some years.

His eyes strayed to her desk, on which he could see his recently opened letters. To the left of those, however...He pulled the metallic object to him and held it up for inspection.

"It is the bullet you stopped," she explained quietly. "That day during our training."

Erik nodded, memory flooding back from that day.

_...Seeing her putting the gun to her far quicker than he had thought she could move...her hand pulling the trigger... _"No!"..._her proud expression after he stopped the bullet...telling him, "Oh, I have faith in you, love..."_

"You kept it," he said, surprised.

The professor smiled. "Yes. I was proud of you and it was a fond keepsake from a good time."

His hand went to his breast pocket and extracted a very different bullet from a very different moment in time.

"Ah," she whispered when she saw it in his palm. The bullet was small and crumpled with dried blood in the creases. Her blood.

Once, in her study over a quiet, private game of chess (filled with imparted secrets and thoughts shared between them), he had extracted a small Reichsmark coin from his pocket. He carried it with him always since he was a child. "_A reminder_," he'd said. She'd stared at the coin and asked, "_Of what?_" Erik had levitated the coin into the air, spinning slowly as they watched. "_Of the unforgiveable. Of the unforgettable._"

He had left the coin on a Cuban beach. It was also there that he had picked up a new reminder: the bullet.

"What's this a reminder of?" she asked softly.

Erik looked up to her, eyes roaming over her face from under his helmet, before replying quietly, "Of things I can neither forget nor forgive. Of things and people I have lost. Of things I can never change...Of you."

"Erik..." She stared at him wordlessly.

With his free hand, he slowly removed the helmet.

For the first in ten years, she could feel him, could feel his mind for the first time since that day on the beach. She took a long moment at the sensation of feeling his long-missed presence. Only then did she dip into his mind.

It was a well of regret, of guilt. She realized he kept the bullet with him, in his pocket, always: a reminder of the price he was paying for his actions, of the loss he had sustained, of his mistakes, of the possible future he had forfeited…

It pained him to see the wheelchair, to realize the full extent of how he had hurt her, how much he had taken from her: _In one fell swoop, I took her best friend and her sister…and now I discover I have taken from her any possibility of walking ever again._

She leaned over and kissed him gently. "Erik, I forgave you many years ago. Do not linger on what you could have done differently to change this. A thousand little things contributed. The fault does not lie solely with you, love."

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. _If I had one wish, it would be to change this._

"I know," she told him softly. "But we both know it would not have ended much better if we had…

"We are too proud to give up our beliefs, too stubborn, too arrogant in our belief that we are right. It would only have hurt us more."

In his mind, he was staring at her—disabled, forever hurt, never able to walk again, because of him.

_Nothing could hurt more than this, Liebling_.

She smiled tightly, determined not to let herself shed another tear. Her throat felt pin-hole thin and she took a calming breath. "I hope in time you can find it in you to forgive yourself, because I already have," she told him.

He nodded and tucked the whole bullet back to the desk and returned the other to his pocket. His hand paused in his pocket before he withdrew a worn photograph.

The professor's inhalation was soft but sharp. "Oh, Erik," she said softly as she stared at the old ultrasound photo.

"She would have been like you," he said quietly. "Your brain, your warmth. Our stubbornness. Your eyes."

"Don't," she whispered, laying a hand on his arm. "Don't make me think of maybes and could-have-beens. It hurts too much."

He tucked the photo away carefully and then embraced her softly, both giving and receiving comfort.

Several minutes later, she straightened. "Come now, I believe Raven and Azazel are waiting for you."

_I expect you will continue to write, then?_ He inquired, picking up his helmet as he stood.

_Yes, I shall. Goodbye, my love._

_Auf Wiedersehen, meine Liebe_, **[1]** he replied and then his mind was gone again, hidden by the helmet.

"I'll show you out," she said and led him from the study.

Raven and Azazel were in the sitting room, sitting in silence, with Hank and Alex. Charlotte sighed at the sight of them. "Honestly, you two, at least _try_ being hospitable," she scolded, though it was with a smile. "Were they here to attack, they would have done it by now and the same for Erik. He could have killed me with my underwire long ago."

The boys flushed and sputtered. Raven's lips quirked up slightly in amusement. Erik simply rolled his eyes.

The telepath looked to the other two guests. "Thank you both for coming," she said as they all stood and prepared to leave. "Stay safe, Raven, please. Azazel, thank you for being our messenger." The teleporter gave a short bow of acknowledgement.

"And Erik," she said as they turned to leave. "_Ich liebe dich_." **[2]**

He smiled. "_Ich liebe dich auch_." **[3]**

And then they were gone. Again.

* * *

**German Translations:**

**[1] "Goodbye, my love."**

**[2] "I love you."**

**[3] "I love you too."  
**


	13. Book 2: Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**_"Sorrow's my body on the waves  
Sorrow's a girl inside my cake."_**

**~ "Sorrow", The National**

* * *

Years past slowly for Charlotte Xavier.

As they expanded and recruited, the world changed around them. The Cold War became lukewarm because suddenly humanity had a far more dangerous, far closer enemy: mutants.

The news of their existence broke to governments soon after Cuba. The entire public had discovered them a year later. Amazement and curiosity were largely the first reaction before fear set in as mutants' full capabilities came to light.

Tensions skyrocketed as the "war", as Erik insisted it was in their correspondence, brewed. Erik's Brotherhood had quickly took a forefront in the conflict.

On the opposite end of the war, there formed an anti-mutant group that paralleled and rivaled the Brotherhood. Where Erik's group was based around mutant supremacy, the Friends of Humanity believed in human supremacy, that mutants were dangerous abominations. The clash in beliefs had often escalated to violence.

Charlotte, as a well renowned expert on genetics and mutations, often spoke at Senate hearings and the like about mutants and their abilities. She had, after all, predicted their existence to the academic community in her thesis. Before long, however, she was called to a greater role.

In the months following Erik and Charlotte's first face-to-face meeting after Cuba, things only worsened. Violence was becoming common by and against mutants.

A young boy—unbeknownst before as a mutant—accidentally set the apartment building his family lived in on fire with his mutation. Eight people had died in the flames with nine more injured.

Not a month later, a mother drowned her six year old daughter after she realized the girl was a mutant.

The mother was found murdered three days later, seemingly in retaliation. Her death was contributed to the Brotherhood; Charlotte didn't want to know if Erik was behind it.

Shortly after, one of the Brotherhood's mutants was found lynched in revenge.

But the violence only escalated and before long, there was a mob of people in DC, lobbying for mutants to be found and exterminated.

And so Charlotte went to work to calm the waters before more were hurt. She wrote a letter anonymously to the President and his advisers, offering a peaceful meeting between them and she, acting as a mutant representative. A day later the headlines cried that the White House had agreed to a meeting with a mutant emissary in a week's time.

The anti-mutant community was in an uproar, but the Brotherhood abruptly halted their actions, virtually vanishing. Charlotte, in her heart, knew that it was because Erik knew her well enough to predict it was she.

At breakfast the morning the news was announced, everyone was surprised if relieved to hear of the meeting. Hank eyed her suspiciously from her right asked lowly, "When are you leaving?"

She smiled slightly. "Sunday morning. The meeting is to be on Monday."

"Are you going to tell them?" he nodded to the others, chatting away cheerfully as they ate.

The professor sighed. "They will worry. I'll tell them Saturday night at dinner."

Hank nodded. "And I suppose you are going alone?"

"Yes," she replied. "I am counting on you to look after them all for me. Will you do that?"

Reluctantly, the blue-haired mutant nodded.

* * *

She could feel the eyes on her.

Even without her telepathy, the tension and anxiety that filled the White House was nearly tangible in the air.

Charlotte had come alone, as promised, but was led down the halls by not one but _four_ Secret Service agents as an escort to the meeting. People they passed in the halls stared at her with curiosity, surprise, and fear in their eyes as they realized she was the representative.

She saw in their minds what they saw: a calm and collected woman in her early forties, dark hair beginning to grey, in a wheelchair. For once, there was no pity in their eyes as they looked upon her wheelchair—a very large change from both being at school or being elsewhere. Instead, there was fear and anxiety, with a small measure of curiosity.

After long walks through the corridors of the White House, they eventually reached the meeting room in the sublevel basement.

The tension doubled as she wheeled into the room. There were only a handful of men present and she could recognize them all.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said calmly, politely as she settled at the empty spot at the end of the table. Opposite her, at the far end, sat the President who looked to the four Secret Service Agents who seemed to be settling in behind her.

"Thank you, agents, but that will be all," he said.

"Sir?" one asked.

"Private meeting," he replied to dismiss them.

Their reluctance and distrust turned her stomach but they nodded and left, shutting the door behind them.

Her eyebrows rose but she nodded, wordlessly thanking them for the display of trust.

"Thank you for coming, Miss...?" the President was sincere in his thanks but trailed off, unsure of her name. He recognized her vaguely but couldn't place her.

"Professor Charlotte Xavier," she supplied. "And thank you for accepting to meet."

The Vice President spoke up. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but aren't you the genetics expert so often called to speak about mutants in Senate hearings?"

Charlotte inclined her head. "The same."

Recognition trickled in, though they were no less wary.

She sighed. "Before we begin, I would like you to know I am in no way or manner affiliated with the Brotherhood of Mutants," the telepath said gently. "I want war no more than you. I am here to prevent it because I believe that humans and mutants _can_ coexist in peace."

"That's good to hear, Professor," said the President with a relieved smile.

The Secretary of Defense did not feel the same. He frowned before purposefully schooling his expression, though Charlotte sensed his overall dislike toward her. "Well, as nice as that would be, I doubt that is possible at the moment, Miss Xavier."

"Peace is _always_ an option," she replied firmly. "We only need find the means to enact it."

He frowned and opened his mouth to debate but was cut off by the older and more open-minded Secretary of State. "Professor, do you know anything about this Brotherhood? What is it, exactly, that they want? They have been less than clear about it."

The telepath sighed. "The Brotherhood is a group of mutants who very much hold the belief that mutants are superior to the rest of humanity. Unfortunately, they are very much willing to kill if it means protecting mutants, though they hesitate to harm our kind. They want this war because they know they have the means to win it."

"Their...leader," Defense said tightly. "He goes by...Magneto, correct?"

She stiffened but nodded slowly. "That is what he goes by, yes."

"Do you know his real name?"

Charlotte stilled and stiffly nodded. "I do."

State understood her defensive tone. "But you won't tell us," he observed neutrally.

The telepath inclined her head in confirmation.

"He seems to be the one to provoke all of this," Defense said, watching her distrustfully. "He is certainly the one that the public sees as responsible for directing the anti-human violence."

She understood what he was getting at before he breathed any more of it. "Mr. Secretary, in my years, I have learned that war is like a dance: you need two."

He leaned forward aggressively. "What're you getting at, Miss Xavier?"

"It's Professor Xavier," she replied calmly. "What I am trying to say is that you seek to punish only one aggressor in this storm, when in fact there are two stirring up this violence. The Friends of Humanity have created an equally high death toll, if not more. To calm the endless cycle of retributive violence between the two, you must confront both—or else neither will halt their actions. If you vilify the Brotherhood only, they will see it as though you are siding with the Friends of Humanity and therefore share their anti-mutant view. And that would only provoke them into inciting actual war."

"You're certain of that?" the President asked, concerned.

Charlotte nodded grimly. "Yes, unfortunately. The two organizations are on the precipice of total warfare as it is. To show favoritism when dealing with one would only incite the other. If you wish to avoid an escalation of violence, I recommend holding both parties equally at fault for their crimes. If one is to be considered a terrorist group, so is the other."

In the pause, her logic soaked into their brains as they considered her words. They could see the sense in it, though they were unhappy about it.

They meandered from that topic.

"You said you knew who Magneto is," the Vice President commented.

"Yes."

"What would it take for you to tell us?"

Her eyebrows rose as she glanced at the politicians. "I assume you wish to know so you can capture and jail him," she said, knowing it was true. "I'll not inform you unless I have your word that the leader of the Friends of Humanity is treated the same: captured and jailed for his crimes."

The Secretary of Defense glared at her fiercely. "You're going to try to _negotiate_ with _us_ about this?" he scoffed.

None of Charlotte's considerable irritation showed on her face. "You accepted my offer for this meeting. _I_ am under no obligation or oath here."

"And how, exactly, are you qualified to be here?" he spat derisively.

"I have been dealing with mutants my entire life, virtually longer than any of you have even dreamed of the possibilities of powers such as these," she replied coldly. "I entered at Harvard at sixteen and Oxford at eighteen. I am in possession of no less than three doctorates in genetics, biophysics, and psychiatry from Oxford, as well as a Ph.D. in anthropology from Columbia University. I am one of the leading authorities on evolutionary genetics. And I have a certified genius-level intellect. I do believe I am _qualified_ to be here.

"Not to mention," she added, calmer, "That I can read your mind."

All of the politicians stilled, their faces paling to white. Then all hell broke loose as they shouted and leapt from their seats.

"What the hell?"

"Oh my God!"

"A _fucking_ spy—"

"Bullshit!"

With a sigh, she waved her hand vaguely in their direction. At once, they froze in air, though their eyes turned to her in alarm. (_Almost as bad as the CIA, ages ago,_ she thought to herself at their reactions.) "Gentlemen, please," she said. "Be civilized. I came here to negotiate, not attack nor spy."

She released the President first, who was the only one still in his seat. "I don't want to be your enemy."

He nodded and recovered well. "Nor do I, Professor—even before knowing about your..." He searched for the right word.

"Telepathy," she replied.

_Yes, that_, he thought with a nod. She smiled and he caught it. _Now, I don't think they will do anything too rash, if you will...?_

Carefully, she released the others and they, after seeing the President seated calmly, reluctantly returned to their chairs.

"How...how did you just...?" the Vice President trailed off, looking completely unnerved.

The professor smiled a bit and lied only a touch as she explained.


	14. Book 2: Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**_"I live in a city sorrow built  
It's in my honey, it's in my milk."_****  
~ "Sorrow", The National**

* * *

Their meeting continued for several hours, interrupted by one or two coffee breaks which she used to check the news to see if there had been any action from the Brotherhood. There wasn't, which both surprised and calmed her.

She didn't have to read his thoughts to understand his thinking, that if his Brotherhood caused any serious trouble while a mutant representative was in the White House, it would be too easy for the feds to imprison or hurt said mutant in retribution. There was also the fact that if she was hurt or taken into custody, he could always use that as his excuse to start his war. It was Erik's dual-fold way of ensuring her safety.

Even now, after all these years, he was still trying to protect her.

Which made it all the more difficult for her to know that she was considering giving him away to them.

But the meeting was not all so calm.

They never were these days when they were discussing mutants.

At one point, Charlotte was barely restraining herself from screaming, though the Secretary of Defense seemed to have no such scruples as they fought.

"_Mutants are dangerous!_" he yelled, slamming his fist on the table, repeating himself for the seventh time that day.

Her lip curled. "And so are humans," she said lowly. "Every person on this planet has the potential of danger within them, regardless of whether they be human or mutant! You don't need superstrength to be able to kill someone. You don't need to capable of invisibility to rob a bank. You don't need to have control over fire to cripple someone. You don't need to be capable of _any_ of that to shoot a gun, to injure, to rape, to kill! Humans are _just_ as capable of violence as mutants and to argue otherwise is bigoted prejudice."

"No," he replied. "But it makes it damn well easier to do!"

Icy silence followed. The other politicians had said nothing, not wanting to involve themselves.

"Do you want to know how I ended up paralyzed and confined to this wheelchair, Mr. Secretary?" she asked coldly, pulling a desperate card from her sleeve.

"Do tell," he replied blandly in disinterest.

She straightened and glared. "It was in Cuba, during the missile crisis. I was assisting the CIA to prevent a nuclear war with a team of mutants _and_ humans, together. And one of each caused me to take a bullet to my spine," she said with cold fury in her tone. "One fired a gun and the other deflected the bullet accidentally into my back, severing my spinal cord. The human that fired the gun intended to kill another with that bullet. The mutant that caused the bullet to enter my spine did so by accident.

"Humans are _just_ as capable of violence and horrible actions as mutants are," she repeated coldly. "And if you think otherwise, you are a damned, deluded fool lying to himself."

* * *

She left late that evening. The hired driver picked her up outside the White House and dropped her off at a hotel.

After a long phone call to Hank about the meetings and a quick chat with several of the others, Charlotte went to bed exhausted and emotionally drained by the arguments.

The professor did not sleep long before a disturbance woke her. Actually, it was more than a simple disturbance.

For all her life, she was usually a light sleeper but exhaustion nullified that on nights such as these.

Charlotte did not wake until there was a knife at her throat and a pair of handcuffs clicking shut around her wrists.

Reacting instinctively, she shoved the arm away. They hadn't realized she was awake and the surprise of her reaction gave her advantage enough to actually do it, though the knife left a shallow slice into the skin of her neck.

Her advantage was short lived. She was near useless in a physical fight now.

That did not mean she was completely defenseless. Charlotte's mind reached out and touched not one but five men in the room. The hostility aimed at her was born of hatred and fear; the professor knew in an instant from their minds who had sent them.

But as she gleaned this information from their minds, one of the men rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides as he tried to pick her up.

Reflexively, she lashed out.

The five attackers slumped to the ground instantly, unconscious. This also, unfortunately, brought Charlotte to the floor with her attacker.

She took a deep breath to calm herself and to sit up right.

Carefully, the telepath slipped into one of the men's mind, shuffling through their memories until she found what she was looking for. Under orders from Creed himself, the man in charge of the Friends of Humanity, to watch and follow the mutant representative from the White House to their hotel and, from there, kill them.

_Well_. That put things into perspective.

Charlotte surveyed the room, squinting to see in the dark of the room. Her wheelchair should have been beside the bed...but there it was, pushed away, knocked on its side.

With a sigh, she reached up to the bedside table and struggled to reach the lamp. After a moment, she managed to find the switch and then reached for the phone.

The telepath dialed the number, which she'd gotten from the politicians' minds the previous day, with steady fingers.

"What? What is it?" came the sleepy voice that picked up the phone.

"This is Professor Xavier," she said calmly. "Forgive me, Mr. President, but I require your assistance. I've just been attacked, you see…"

* * *

Shortly thereafter came the sound of heavy footfalls in the corridor outside her room. Someone pounded on the door. "FBI!" a man said loudly.

"The door's locked," she called loudly. "But I can't reach it now!"

A moment later, the agents rammed the door down and came rushing in to find the five men still unconscious on the floor and Charlotte, beside the bed, looking weary but calm.

"If one of you gentlemen would be so kind as to get my chair for me and help me into it?" she asked politely.

One of the agents righted the chair and wheeled it over as another helped her into it.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "Now, if any of you happen to have a key for handcuffs, I would love to rid myself of these."

She was in luck; her attackers were using handcuffs similar to police-issue and the key worked.

Another came forward as she rubbed her wrists. "Ah, Professor Xavier, correct? I'm Special Agent McBrayer. Would you mind explaining what happened? We were informed that you had been attacked but little else."

Charlotte smiled and explained briefly of her mutation and the men, of their orders. She said nothing of why they targeted her specifically and only implied that it was because she was a mutant, rather than share that she was the representative.

McBrayer took it all in stride, even her mutation. Once she finished explaining everything, he lingered; Charlotte could sense his curiosity but hesitation in his mind. Eventually, he sighed and told her quietly, "Professor, my daughter...She's twelve and she's a mutant, too."

The telepath smiled. "Oh, how lovely. What is her mutation, if I may ask?"

"Empathy," he said softly. "It causes her problems, sometimes, being in crowds or around too many people."

Charlotte nodded. "Mr. McBrayer, I run a school in upstate New York for mutant children, teaching them to control their powers. If you'd like, I'll give you my card..."

* * *

An hour later, a new man came up to her, dressed neatly in a suit. "Professor Xavier, I'm from the Secret Service. The President sent me to retrieve you. In light of your attack, he felt it would be better if he offered you a guest room there until you leave."

Charlotte nodded. "That is a wise choice."

* * *

She did not stay long in the White House. By the time she got there, it was just past five in the morning.

Gently, Charlotte turned her attention to the minds of those within her range, scanning for a familiar mind. After a minute, she found her sister, who was just outside of DC... Nearby were the mental presences of other Brotherhood members. She was certain Erik wasn't far behind, though she could not sense him.

But that alone supplied her with enough information. If the Brotherhood was here, then Erik was certainly with them. If she could not sense him, then he was certainly wearing the helmet. If so, then he was awake. And why else would he be awake at this hour if not because he had somehow learned of the recent events. Erik had never been a morning person; there was no other explanation.

So she dipped into the mind of their teleporter. _Azazel, tell Magneto an old friend needs to speak with him. _She told him and rattled off a location. _It is urgent. Have him meet me there in one hour._

Suspicion and alarm coiled in his mind like a snake preparing to strike. After a moment, he replied, _Da. I will._

_Thank you, Azazel_, she said and withdrew from his mind.

* * *

An hour later, Charlotte wheeled into the coffeehouse and found him already waiting, sitting patiently at a table. In front of him rested a cup of coffee with two sugars and a splash of milk (she still remembered how he took his coffee) and an untouched cup of tea.

Erik had thankfully lost his ridiculous cape costume as well as the helmet and instead wore a black turtleneck under his jacket with a pair of slacks. The clothing was reminiscent of their time together before Cuba. Though he was no longer as whipcord thin and his hair was slowly greying with his age, the sight caused a wave of nostalgia that made her heart ache tenderly in her breast.

His mental presence was a balm to her frayed nerves of the part day.

He gave a small smile when he saw her. "Charlotte," he greeted warmly.

"My love," she replied softly as she settled at the table and leaned over to press her lips to his cheek. "Thank you for coming."

"An invitation like that is difficult to ignore," he replied. "I heard there was a mutant attacked in DC and I feared the worst."

She took a sip of the proffered cup of tea and smiled. "Earl Grey with one spoonful of sugar," she said quietly, fondly. "You still remember."

Erik gave her a look that was both patronizing and fond. "Of course I do, liebling," he said and added sadly, "I remember everything about you."

A memory flashed in her mind of pre-Cuba, sitting in the mansion's kitchen with all of the children as they ate breakfast together. The younger mutants were happily feasting on pancakes and syrup. Erik had his usual coffee and Charlotte her tea. The telepath realized abruptly the perspective was wrong as she looked upon her own, much younger face. It was Erik's recollection.

She pulled back from the memory, forcing herself not to linger there. Erik watched her with calm grey-green eyes and seemed to know she had slipped into his mind but said nothing.

Neither spoke for a moment, only gazing at each other.

"You were already in DC, weren't you?" she asked finally.

He chuckled. "As soon as we heard that a mutant had stepped forward and offered to meet with the government about current affairs, I knew it was you, Charlotte. And I knew the so-called Friends of Humanity would love to get their hands on the representative going in for peace talks. It was safer to be nearby and on hand."

"You also halted your...operations."

He nodded. "Insurance."

Charlotte cocked her head to the side. "On what?"

Erik gave her a long look and projected loudly, _Your life._

Despite herself, she chuckled. "You're still trying to protect me."

"And I always will."

His sincerity threatened to overwhelm Charlotte, whose throat was pinhole-thin. She swallowed.

The sound of all they left unsaid deafened her.

Eventually, Erik broke the silence. "What happened exactly?"

"Five men broke into my hotel room," she said calmly. "I didn't wake up until there was a knife at my throat. I knocked them out," she touched her temple absently. "Simple. They weren't expecting a telepath, obviously."

He chuckled. "Charlotte, very few people could ever expect someone like you."

She forced herself to interpret his words in terms of her telepathy, not in his real meaning. Otherwise it would only be harder to force herself to leave him again.

* * *

Three hours later, they parted.

Erik was under oath not to retaliate for the attack, though it was reluctantly given after an hour of disagreement and negotiation. "If they try it again..." he remarked with a dangerous edge to his voice, "I won't uphold my promise, Charlotte."

She smiled sadly, knowing the honesty with which he spoke.

The older mutant pressed his lips to hers for only a moment before turning and walking away. Charlotte closed her eyes so she didn't have to watch him leave her again.

* * *

By the time the professor returned, it was nearly ten when she wheeled into the meeting room. The politicians had already been present and in the midst of a loud discussion when they had fallen silent at her entrance.

"Professor Xavier," the President greeted calmly, polite despite the fact that she was two hours late.

"My apologies to you all for my tardiness," she said.

The Secretary of Defense was unmoved. "Recovering after your scare?" he asked dryly, mocking edging into his words.

"Actually, I was busy convincing Magneto not to seek retribution for the attack," she replied coolly. "On that matter, he has agreed not to do anything as long as the Friends of Humanity are held responsible—something I quite agree on."

"I'll make sure of it," the President replied with a nod.

_Maybe_, she thought softly, _Maybe there is hope for this war yet._


	15. Book 2: Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**_"Don't leave my hyper heart alone on the water  
Cover me in rag and bone sympathy"_**

**~ "Sorrow", The National**

* * *

The peace talks had been a temporary solution at best, she knew, but it had worked for the time. The violence traded like blows between the Brotherhood and the Friends of Humanity slowed and shrinked in scale though the prejudice remained on both sides.

Eventually, after deliberation, the President had agreed to regard the Brotherhood and Friends of Humanity equally as terrorist groups and therefore equally punishable under the law. They also agreed to pursue the Friends of Humanity just as fiercely as they hunted Magneto, who Charlotte regretfully gave up as Erik Lehnsherr.

It was nearly two years later that they next saw each other.

* * *

Charlotte had grown into her academic persona with age. She had not lied when she'd said that she was one of the foremost experts on evolutionary genetics. With time, she became _the_ foremost expert, the go-to consultant on all matters mutant, as well as a voice for equality on all fronts.

She wasn't a real professor at a university but some occasionally asked her to speak. Columbia was one of them and had specifically asked her to give a series of guest lectures about recent advances in genetics. As she had done little lately in academia outside of mutants, she accepted the offer.

On her third lecture, she was discussing the recent developments in DNA sequencing. "Just last year, amazing progress has been made," she began, looking out to the full auditorium of students and several teachers. "Between the developments of Maxam, Gilbert, and Sanger, methods to sequence human DNA are not far off. Within a few decades surely—certainly within your lifetimes. Now, what we can learn from these developments..."

In the back of the auditorium, a familiar presence came in through the back doors. Erik met her eyes and nodded before leaning against the back wall to listen.

She recovered with barely a pause and continued her lecture with more gusto than ever.

* * *

After the last straggling students had left, Erik came up to meet her in front of the stage.

She greeted him with a kiss to his cheek and a smile. "I was beginning to think it would be another ten years before I saw you, my love."

"I was in New York," he said quietly. "I thought I might catch you out...I need to speak with you."

The telepath paused. "Is this business or personal?"

"Both, I suppose," he replied.

Charlotte nodded. "Alright, but you're taking me to dinner then if it's not just business," she told him sternly but ruined the effect with a fond smile.

* * *

Ten minutes later found them seated in an Italian restaurant for dinner.

She chuckled quietly as they glanced through the menus. "In twelve years, this is our first date."

With a shrug, Erik replied, "It depends on your definition of a date. One might consider our late night chess games dates."

The professor smiled nostalgically as memories of those long nights full of chess and conversation and companionship came to her mind.

After a waitress took their orders, Charlotte studied the man before her and saw the tension in his frame. She reached across the table to grasp his hands in hers. "Why did you seek me out, Erik?" she asked quietly. "What's this business of which you spoke earlier?"

He sighed. "Do you recall Agent Stryker of the CIA?"

Her eyebrows rose but she nodded. "I remember him, yes."

"It's his son, Colonel William Stryker," the magnetokinetic replied. "He's following in his father's anti-mutant footsteps. We found intelligence the other day that he was...experimenting."

Charlotte stared at him, speechless. "_What?_" she gasped softly. "On—on mutants?"

Reluctantly, Erik nodded. "Mystique was...ah, appropriating several files in DC when she stumbled upon mention of his actions. We looked into it. He appears to have set up a base and therein has conducted experiments upon mutants, attempting to create a weapon to kill mutants. He calls the program Weapon X."

He was telling the truth and it terrified her. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Why tell me this?"

"We could not collect all the data on the base," he replied. "But we know that a majority of the mutants they have in their custody are only children. Among them, Havok..._Alex_'s younger brother seems to be there too. It made sense to inform you as your school will be the safest place for them after."

The telepath leaned back in her chair, nodding in understanding. "You plan on raiding the base to rescue the mutants, ruin the base itself, and kill Stryker." Erik did not deny it and she sighed. "Why haven't you simply done it and tell me afterward?"

"Mystique was able to access a good portion of the files about the base but not all of it. We could only find a few files on the mutants they have and very basics about what they are doing. The location was classified and inaccessible," he explained. "We...I hoped you might use Cerebro to locate it."

Slowly, Charlotte nodded. "I will locate it for you," she replied. "For the imprisoned mutants."

His relief was tangible in the air. "Thank you, Liebling. Mystique is out looking for more information as we speak, so we should know more by tomorrow. Would tomorrow night be a sufficient time to meet again?"

"Yes. If he is willing, have Azazel teleport you into my office," she decided. "I don't want any of the others to run into you on accident and misinterpret your presence as an assault. Bring whatever information you have found and we can plan the best course of action, if you'd like my assistance."

For several minutes, they sat in silence as they ate. Eventually, Erik thought to her softly, _Thank you, Liebling. I know you do not like violence such as this does not sit well with you._

_It does not_, she replied with sad resolve, _But to experiment on people...much less children... That is..._ The telepath struggled for a suiting word. _Unforgiveable, unthinkable. Unacceptable._

He did not reply and Charlotte looked up to find him staring at her with an expression she could not place. _Your weakness always was the children,_ he observed though not unkindly.

"No," she shook her head. "My weakness lies with those I love and care for, as well as those incapable of protecting themselves."

_And you_, she thought painfully.

* * *

Charlotte had done as promised to Erik and had located Stryker's base using Cerebro.

It was a Saturday and she had no classes, so the professor had been planning for her meeting that evening.

But things never quite go as planned in the life of Charlotte Xavier.

It was nearly lunch when the peaceful silence in her office was shattered abruptly. An alarm bellowed downstairs, echoing throughout the mansion. The sound of yells and general chaos soon followed.

Fearing the worst, the telepath hurried to the elevator and went to the ground floor. There was a large group of gathered students and several teachers in the foyer, looking out the windows and the open door in alarm.

Hank and Alex stood just outside the front door, facing the lawn.

"Disperse, students," she said loudly to the assembly. They moved out of her way and reluctantly returned to whence they came, speaking lowly amongst each other in curiosity.

Hank heard her and moved aside to let her by, but Alex edged closer to her. Anger, alarm, and protectiveness came off him in waves.

Finally, she saw the cause of the disturbance.

Just before the mansion's steps stood Raven, Emma Frost, and Azazel. All three of the Brotherhood members were battle-worn, bloody, and exhausted. The teleporter looked worn ragged and uneasy as he glanced around. At his right, Raven was shaking slightly, her fear and panic evident on her face, though her eyes were filled with relief when she met Charlotte's eyes. Emma Frost's shields were barely left standing around her mind, mere shadows of their usual strength, but she gave nothing away.

Worry filled Charlotte as the two groups stared at each other. Finally, Raven spoke. "Charlotte—please, we need your help. They have Magneto."

A little sound escaped her before she realized it—a sound not quite human, a sound of fear and pain.

She took a shuddering breath. "Come inside."

* * *

The three worn Brotherhood members weaved the tale together once safely ensconced in her office with only the telepath, Hank, and Alex there.

Raven had indeed found more information about Stryker's base, including more files about some of the mutants imprisoned there. Amongst them were details about the extent of the experimentation.

"...I took him the files immediately. In them, we found mention of Three Mile Island in Pennsylvania—"

Charlotte inhaled. "Where Stryker's base is," she murmured and ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, God. What did you do, Erik?"

Emma watched her with sharply curious blue eyes. "He didn't want to wait for you," she told the professor. "He was furious. The experiments, he said, were worse than some he had witnessed in Auschwitz. That was the last straw for him and so the Brotherhood attacked the base."

"We were overwhelmed," Raven said, pale. "Outnumbered and outgunned. They had mutants—turned into weapons designed to kill their own kind. One of them knocked out Magneto by luck and they took him. We decided a retreat was best before we were all captured. After ensuring everyone else was safe at our own base, we came here."

The greyed-brown haired woman studied them curiously. To her right, Hank spoke up. "And you trusted that we would help you so simply?"

The White Queen replied to him but her eyes did not leave Charlotte. "Magneto has always trusted the Professor here. He's given orders before that, should the Brotherhood be in crisis or someone injured and unable to contact any of the others, we would find shelter or assistance here with you."

"Erik does not trust me," Charlotte replied impassively, with a shake of her head. "I do not believe he trusts anyone—much less one of his enemies."

Emma snorted. "Look, missy. You think because he wears that damn helmet he doesn't trust you, don't you? Well, you're not the only telepath out there, obviously. And the only times I've ever seen him without it was when we was going to meet with you. He trusts you more than anyone else, I think."

The blond telepath reached out and projected to Charlotte privately, _And it doesn't take a telepath to see that you two are foolishly, sickeningly in love. _

Surprised but curious, Charlotte asked, _And that is why you decided to come to me for help?_

_We knew you wouldn't leave him there—_that_ is why we came. Because you're not the kind of woman who would leave the man you love at the mercy of a psychotic scientist like Stryker._

Charlotte chuckled ruefully. "You're not wrong there, Miss Frost. Yes. I will assist you. I had intended to offer assistance when Erik was going to liberate the imprisoned mutants there anyways. Now...there is simply more incentive to do so."

"Glad we agree," the White Queen replied with a satisfied smirk.


	16. Book 2: Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**"****_…'Cos I don't wanna get over you  
I don't wanna get over you…"_**

**~ "Sorrow", The National**

* * *

Azazel had left quickly after their truce to retrieve a couple Brotherhood members to assist in the extraction, as Xavier was calling it.

Emma did not know the other telepath well. She knew much of her—Mystique's past sisterhood with her, the Oxford-educated background, and of course the whole debacle in which they fought against Shaw. She had learned of Cuba much after the fact and had been surprised to hear that Magneto had paralyzed her—even if it had been accidental.

She had been even more surprised to find out about their child. Of course, they didn't tell the others, but Emma had felt their alarm and seen through Azazel and Mystique's eyes as Magneto got the ultrasound photo—"_Her name was Anya Xavier_." Despite their mutational similarities, Emma did not care for the professor much beyond grudging respect, but that photo was enough to make her sympathize for Xavier. Even more so after she learned the details from Mystique.

The one thing that had always confused the blond was Xavier's relationship with Magneto. Before Cuba, it had seemed that the two were a couple; even Shaw had thought so. Looking in to the others' memories of what had occurred on the beach and his reaction to her injury, it sure seemed like they had been. But then he had left without a second thought.

Well, that was untrue. He thought about her constantly; Emma didn't need to read his mind to know that.

It took the telepath an embarrassingly long time to gather that the pregnancy had resulted from one drunken night that neither fully recalled and they'd had little besides that. But they were stupidly, foolishly in love, she realized as she watched them. Magneto pined and the Professor, judging by her students' thoughts, had done little more (aside from mourning for her daughter).

When Magneto had been captured, well, it was an instant choice to retreat and go to Xavier for assistance. She was the forgiving sort that believed in second chances and trusting people, but more than that, Emma knew she would go to hell and back for him.

It was all so terribly sad, honestly, and the blond felt bad for Charlotte. She was willing to do almost anything for him but Magneto seemed only concerned with the Brotherhood and mutants, despite the fact that he seemed to fully reciprocate Xavier's love.

Personally, the telepath thought he needed to reorder his priorities.

Watching Xavier plan a rescue mission to go after him, Emma resolved to tell him that much once he was back.

* * *

From the Brotherhood, Raven and Frost gather Azazel, Riptide, and a woman Charlotte has never met before named Irene Adler but whom the others call Destiny.

Charlotte asks Hank and Alex to assist. They were not happy but reluctantly agreed. "For you," Hank had reluctantly decided. "We'll do it for you, not for him."

Via Cerebro, the professor confirmed that Erik was still at Three Mile Island, drugged to unconsciousness in a secure level far below the captive children. She also discovered that, at the same time, another man was on his way to the island—Logan, whom she and Erik had briefly met years ago, was on his way there as well.

Now, on the jet (of Hank's design and piloting), the air was tense as they flew from New York to the small Pennsylvanian island. The flight was silent and no one spoke more than required for planning.

Emma, Riptide, and Alex were to go in for the children. Raven, Azazel, and Hank were after Erik.

Irene, as she had introduced herself to Charlotte, was a blind young woman with a cryptic smile that matched her mutation of foreseeing the future. It was her mutation that allowed her to compensate for her physical limitation, but she was mainly a non-combatant and preferred to watch rather than act. As such, she and Charlotte were to remain on the jet while the others enacted their plan.

As they neared the base, the telepath inhaled sharply, drawing everyone's attention to her. "We're not alone," she said. "There's someone else attacking the island—another mutant."

Across the jet, Emma Frost gave a hum as she reached for said mutant's mind. "Oh, he might be useful," she remarked with an eager smirk curling her lips. "He's out for Stryker's blood too."

"Stryker knows he—Logan, he's called—is coming," Charlotte added. "That could be useful. Logan will be a distraction for us. Wonderful."

They went in, leaving Charlotte and Irene in the jet. The telepath monitored them and shared what she saw with the other mutant.

As they together watch Alex knock out a guard preparing to shoot Riptide and Azazel take out another heading for Hank, Irene commented, "They work well together."

A small, bittersweet smile came to Charlotte's face. "Yes, they do."

It reminded her of a dream, of a wish, she'd thought up so long ago—of Erik and she ending this feud and combining the Brotherhood and the school to form a larger group. It was a fool's dream, but it was sweet in its impossibility.

Logan had, by this point, found an ally, a female named Kayla, with whom he had freed the children from their cages, though they were interrupted in their escape by one of Stryker's experiments. "The Deadpool"—that is what Styker refers to him as in his mind. Formerly one of his hired mercenaries, Stryker had transformed him into a mutational hybrid created for one purpose: killing mutants. Logan split from the group and began fighting Deadpool while the children went off on their own.

It was not two minutes later than Emma, Riptide, and Alex find them as they stumbled into a group of guards.

Meanwhile, Raven, Azazel, and Hank were delving deeper into the base to find Erik. Charlotte nudged them along, warning them of traps and guards to prevent unnecessary fighting. It unnerved the professor to watch her sister—her little, blue sister whom she had always tried to protect for so long—fight viciously and kill mercilessly. She had changed much since their time flirting with coeds at Oxford.

Finally, they found him, locked in a cell alone, with only an IV drip there to keep him drugged and prevent him from waking and using his power.

The sight of him, through Hank's eyes, made Charlotte nearly physically sick. He was completely strapped down and restrained. What skin she could see was bruised so violently, she could only see black, indigo, and green rather than any of his usual tan pallor. Cuts and injection marks marred his arms. An IV was still in his arm.

Fury, horror, and fear darted through her mind as she reached to his unprotected thoughts.

Though he was unconscious, his mind was a veritable vat of fear and pain with a dash of humiliation and guilt thrown in the mix. He was snared in a nightmare from his youth—_trapped in the concentration camp as Schmit-Shaw experimented. There was a flash of his office, of Herr Doktor counting down "Eins, Zwei, Drei"—the flash of gunfire as Schmit-Shaw fired—for a moment, it was Edie Lehnsherr crumpling to the floor. But then, her form blurred and reformed to the semblance of Charlotte—a bullet hole through her forehead. Overwhelming horror, crippling grief, steadfast denial (NoNoNo—Shewasn'tkilled,itwasMutter—notLiebling)…_

With a gasp, Charlotte gathered his mind and calmed him, lulling him to peaceful sleep with gentle words. She couldn't wake him because of the drugs in his system, but she could halt the nightmares they induced. Glancing through his memories, she brought to the forefront of his mind their early years—_Charlotte diving into the ocean after him, "You're not alone", of them bonding as they recruited, of "There is so much more to you than you know, not just pain and anger", of the simple joy of being together before their separation, of the unspoken bond between them._

Once Erik was sufficiently calmed from the dream, Charlotte returned her attention to the fight, but was relieved to see that they had found Erik and were cutting off his restraints.

_Azazel, if you can after getting Erik back, could you look for that helmet of his? He'll be furious if Stryker manages to keep it_, she thought to the teleporter, who sent back a quick confirmation before appearing next to her on the jet.

"Be careful of his ribs," he noted in his Russian accent as he put the unconscious man into one of the seats of the jet and vanished once more.

Destiny and Charlotte were both at Erik's side quickly. The telepath cradled his head gently as Irene examined his injuries and forsaw their healing. "He'll be unconscious for quite a while because of the drugs," she told the professor. "Three ribs are fractured, his left arm is broken, and he has a concussion."

Charlotte glanced around the jet before uttering a curse. "We don't have any stretchers," she realized.

On the ground, Emma and the others were leading the group of children toward the jet. There were far more of them than they had originally thought.

The telepath locked the brakes on her wheelchair and was, for once, grateful for its girth, as she gently pulled the injured man from the seat. As she cradled the metallokinetic's head in the crook of one arm, she met Irene's eyes. Though the psychic likely knew, Charlotte told her anyway, "There are more children than we thought. It'll be a tight squeeze for them all to fit. I'd rather they have chairs and this way...well." She wetted her lips with her tongue nervously.

Irene chuckled and shook her head. _I understand, Professor_.

Charlotte smiled gratefully, but she finished the thought privately. _This way I can know with certainly that we have him back, for real. _

And anyways, it wasn't like his weight made her legs underneath him feel uncomfortable.

* * *

Emma and Raven herded the children onto the jet while Alex helped the children settle once on board. Azazel had teleported himself, Raven, and Hank back quickly. The shapeshifter carried with her Erik's infernal helmet.

No one questioned why she held Erik, not even the children, and she was comforted enough by having him back that she sent out gentle, lapping waves to sooth their fears.

As they flew and the others spoke in low tones about Stryker's sudden disappearance from the base, Charlotte told the children about her school. They were wide-eyed in amazement that there was such a place for people like them. Many of them, she discovered, were taken from orphanages, foster homes, or juvenile detention centers. A couple had simply been turned over to Stryker by their parents, fearful of their mutations.

Already, her heart went out to them and she could feel a new beginning in their lives. Most had already decided to stay at her school.

She could feel her extended family growing by the minute.

If only Erik would join it as well.


	17. Book 2: Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**_"Don't leave my hyper heart alone on the water  
Cover me in rag and bone sympathy  
'cos I don't wanna get over you  
I don't wanna get over you."_**

**~ "Sorrow", The National**

* * *

Events unfolded quickly after returning to the school.

Charlotte realized they had not one lost sibling, but rather two, in the mix: Alex's much younger brother Scott and—to her shock—Emma Frost's younger sister, Cordelia, who was only fifteen.

Once Erik was in safe hands in the infirmary and any still-hurt children were there as well, the professor set to work ensuring that they settled in to their new homes smoothly. Indeed, they were to her relief.

Which left her free time to instead focus on Erik. Hank had looked him over and told her that the magnetokinetic should sleep for a few more days to heal before waking. So, Charlotte took to spending her time outside of class and meals at his bedside, reading an unread book she had found on her own shelf—_The Once and Future King_—while waiting for him to wake.

She spent four days waiting.

* * *

"…'_You know that eye-to-eye recognition, when two people look deeply into each other's pupils, and burrow to the soul? It usually comes before love_…'"

"Indeed, it sounds familiar."

She nearly dropped the book. "Erik!"

The magnetokinetic looked up at her in sleepy confusion. She gathered him into her arms once more in a gentle hug, careful of his arm and ribs. "We got you back," she told him.

"You stupid, foolish man," Charlotte scolded but her words held no true rebuke. "You should have waited. Instead, you rushed in and got yourself captured and nearly experimented on."

He paused, sleepily taking in her words. "We?" he repeated.

"Some of the Brotherhood, Alex, Hank, and I," she clarified softly. "We rescued you and the children there."

"The children?" he prompted.

The telepath laid a hand on his shoulder. "They are here and safe, my love. Don't worry. You were the only one seriously hurt during the entire debacle. Sleep, my love. I'll be here when you wake up again. Rest. Heal. Sleep."

She grasped his hand in hers as she spoke.

His drowsy, concussed mind asked softly, _Don't leave me?_

Charlotte's heart clenched. "Never."

* * *

A few days later, Hank (as doctor of the mansion) allowed him to leave his bed and have brief walks through the school. Charlotte was usually the one to accompany him.

On their third walk about the grounds, Charlotte led him to a small, discreet garden centered around a willow tree. Without a word, she pointed to the left of the tree and Erik looked curiously where she pointed.

His knees nearly gave out on him, but he made his way slowly to the small headstone before he fell to his knees onto the grass.

_Anya Edie Xavier_

That was all it said.

Carefully, he traced the letters of his stillborn daughter's name.

He had never really allowed himself to mourn her before, too busy, too distanced from it all.

"How do you do it?" he asked softly. "How do you move on past this? Knowing that she died without ever getting the chance to live?"

She didn't reply at first and Erik suspected she wasn't going to, before she finally let out a shaky breath. "Not easily. I didn't think I would move past it in the first few months. But then I realized…they may not be my children, but the students depend on me as children would their mother and I owe it to them not to neglect those still with me for those who are gone. Even if they aren't mine, I'm their mother, in way."

He nodded and stood.

On their way out of the garden, Erik asked gently, "Would you still want children of your own?"

"I—well, that is, I—" the telepath stumbled with her words before she nodded. "Yes, I—I do. If I could, I would have my own. Even though there is the chance of losing them, I think they would be worth it."

He paused midstep. "If you could?" Erik repeated and turned to her in growing horror and concern. "Charlotte, did something happen…can you still have…?"

The telepath flushed. "Oh, I—yes. I can. More difficult, obviously, because of the paraplegia, but—my fertility is untouched."

"Then why 'if you could'?"

She wetted her lips nervously. "Because there is only one man whom I would desire children with and I don't believe he is amenable to that."

But Erik did not need to be a telepath to understand what she was thinking.

He caught her hand in his and met her blue eyes earnestly. "Are you sure about that?"

* * *

Two weeks later, the Brotherhood had left the Xavier mansion, but not without its changes.

Emma's sister Cordelia was determined to enroll in the school but the older telepath did not wish to leave her little sister. Reluctantly, the White Queen found herself staying there too. Charlotte even managed to convince the blond to take up teaching a couple business and English classes to the professor's delight. She doubted the two blonds would linger for too terribly long, but for now it was enough.

Destiny had likewise stayed, sensing that it was for the best for her to remain here. Erik bore her no grudge for that; she had been in the Brotherhood through a loose commitment and he hadn't expected her to stay long anyways.

Though some had their initial misgivings about the two of the newest permanent residents of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Charlotte was delighted.

Curiously, Hank, Alex, and Sean had noticed her mood's steady improvement since the rescue, even after the metallokinetic and the rest of his group had left.

* * *

It was nearly two months after they had left that the boys found her downstairs one morning for breakfast, chatting away cheerfully with nearly everyone at the table.

"Professor," Hank said, concerned. "Are you alright? You're in a strangely good mood."

The telepath bit her lip and sighed.

It made everyone else—teachers and students alike—look to the headmistress. "Alright," she sighed aloud. "I do have an announcement to make, though I was intending to save it until dinner."

Charlotte glanced at them all, taking in their curious eyes and expressions.

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

**End of Book II**


	18. Book 3: Chapter 1

**Book 3:**

**A Cold and Broken Hallelujah**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**_"I've heard there was a secret chord  
That David played, and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do you?  
It goes like this:  
The fourth, the fifth  
The minor fall, the major lift.  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah.  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah…"_**

**~ "Hallelujah", Leonard Cohen  
**

* * *

"Erik."

The man stopped at her voice. _Charlotte_, he thought in greeting. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

He didn't turn. "Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?" he asked. Exhaustion filled his voice.

"Don't give up on them, Erik," she said, quietly pleading.

"What would you have me do, Charlotte?" he asked bitterly. "I've heard these arguments before."

She frowned. "That was a long time ago. Mankind has evolved since then."

It had been years since they had last communicated; they had kept up their letters for many years until the 'war' (as he called it) began. In one fight, Azazel had been killed and neither had the time nor resources to continue a clandestine correspondence. Charlotte had not seen him in person in so many years…

"Yes," Erik agreed, still not daring to look at her. (_The sight of her wheelchair always did cause a torrent of guilt._) "Into us." After a moment, his hand went to his temple. _Charlotte_, he thought warningly. "Are you sneaking around in here? What ever are you looking for, Charlotte?"

Finally, he turned to face her. His face, so weathered and weary, so many years later, was a hard mask. His hair was a shock of white and grey now, but otherwise very much the same. She so seldom saw him face to face, even more rarely without his helmet.

"I'm looking for hope," she replied calmly, sincerely.

He nodded. "I will bring you hope, Liebling, and I will ask only one thing in return: don't get in my way."

After a long moment, he touched his hat in goodbye and walked away. "We are the future, Charlotte. Not them," he called over his shoulder. "They no longer matter."

She watched him go with equal parts longing and worry.

Once he was gone, Charlotte Xavier pulled out her phone and dialed quickly.

"Storm," she said lowly but urgently. "We have a problem."

* * *

Later that evening, Sabretooth stormed into Magneto's office. Alone.

So he had failed. _Interesting._

"What happened?" Erik asked sharply.

"They knew."

_Ah_. He moved his chair out from the desk and sat down. "Charlotte," he muttered with a self-berating edge to his words. Of course she had discovered it from his head. He should have assumed as much when they first spoke.

But…Sabretooth did not come completely empty handed. He carried with him a souvenir. Erik pulled the dog tags to him, inspecting them curiously. _Wolverine._ "Where is the mutant now?" he asked idly.

The shaggy mutant snarled. "With _them_."

Well. That _was_ a problem. "I have made the first move, that is all they know," he said mostly to himself. Tossing the dog tags onto his desk, he said to Sabretooth, "Come. The UN Summit is approaching. Time for our little test."


	19. Book 3: Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**_"…Your faith was strong but you needed proof  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you  
She tied you to a kitchen chair  
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah…"_**

**~ "Hallelujah", Leonard Cohen  
**

* * *

"I was tracking him when he left the Senate hearing but lost him. Likewise, Sabretooth escaped Pietro," Wanda explained with a frown. "We suspect his base is somewhere in New Jersey, but they're being exceptionally discreet."

Her brother snorted. "And that's really saying something, considering we're talking about the Brotherhood."

_Dad never did manage subtlety with the Brotherhood_, he thought with some measure of exasperation and frustration.

Despite herself, Charlotte chuckled softly.

Her twins were all grown up now; looking at them, weary from their search for the Brotherhood's compound, that fact was undeniable now. They were nearly thirty and that thought made the professor feel every year on her life weigh her down.

Wanda had red auburn hair and reminded Charlotte of herself when she was younger, though she had Erik's sharp wit and the same reserved nature. The Scarlet Witch, as she had been nicknamed because of her magic-like mutation and manipulation of probability, preferred small groups to crowds and had a calmly rational mind that her mother often considered the calm within a storm, especially during a fight.

Her brother Pietro had strangely white-blond hair that he liked to keep in spikes and looked much like his father, though Erik's sharp angles were softened in his face. He had, unfortunately, inherited his parents' arrogance and some of his father's aggressive tendencies. For his inhuman speed, he was called Quicksilver. Because of his impulsive nature, he often turned to Wanda or his mother for level-headedness.

They had grown up knowing who their father was and why it was something of a secret. Though they had met Erik often through their adolescence and adulthood, neither held much sympathy for his cause. Wanda understood why they had done what they had done, but Pietro regarded his father angrily (his mind always seemed to whisper _Do you care for your family so little? We're right here…Why can't you just forget fighting the humans and just come home to us? Do you really love us that little? Do you love us at all?_). Likewise, that anger sometimes spread toward Charlotte (along the lines of _Why waste your time waiting for him? Why do you love him? After all he's done—after Cuba, after your paralysis, after leaving, after everything—why? He doesn't deserve you or us—so why?_) He always referred to his father aloud as Magneto, unless he spoke of a time before Cuba, though he sometimes slipped and called him "Dad" in his mind or in private.

His sister understood why their parents acted as they did.

But that didn't mean she liked it any more than he did.

* * *

So Logan was back now, she mused as she monitored him psychically.

With half her attention on her class, she subtly guided him in the right direction until he burst right into her office.

"Good morning, Logan," she greeted calmly, startling him, before telling her students, "So, I'd like your definitions of weak and strong atomic particles on my desk tomorrow. That will be all. Have a good day."

They all filed out.

"Physics," she explained to Logan, holding up the textbook before introducing herself. "I'm Charlotte Xavier. Would you like some breakfast?"

He ignored her question to ask her own. "Where am I?"

"Westchester, New York," she explained, coming out from behind her desk. "You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention."

"I don't need medical attention," he said fiercely.

She chuckled dryly. "Yes, of course."

"Where is the girl?"

"Rogue?" she said. "She's here, she's fine. In fact, she's my newest student."

Storm, Scott, and Pietro's entrance cut off his next question. "Ah, Logan, I would like for you to meet Ororo Munroe, also called Storm. This is Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops, and Pietro Maximoff. They saved your life.

"And I believe you've already met Doctor Jean Grey, but that is Wanda Maximoff. You're in my school for the gifted, for mutants. You'll be safe here from Erik."

"Who's Erik?"

She smiled. "A very powerful mutant, usually known as Magneto, who believes that a war is coming between mutants and the rest of humanity. I've been following his activities for many years. The man who attacked you is an associate of his called Sabretooth."

"Magneto? Sabretooth?" he repeated skeptically. She nodded. He looked to Ororo. "Storm?" He looked back to the telepath. "What do they call you? Wheels?" He laughed. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard…And Cyclops, right? Wanna get out of my way?"

Scott looked to her.

"Logan," she barked. "It's been almost fifteen years, hasn't it? Living day to day, moving place to place, with no memory of who or what you are."

"Shut up," he spat.

"Give me a chance," she negotiated calmly. "I may be able to help you find answers." In fact, she already suspected several…

He looked at her, shaken but defensive anger rising. "How do you know?"

_You're not the only one with gifts_, she told him and smiled at the disbelief on his face.

"What is this place?"

"Anonymity is a mutant's first chance against the world's hostility," she explained. "To the public, we are merely a school for gifted youngsters. Cyclops, Storm, and Jean were some of my first students, Wanda and Pietro followed. I protected them, taught them to control their powers, and in time, teach others to do the same. The students are mostly runaways—frightened, alone. Some with gifts so extreme that they have become a danger to themselves and those around them. Much like your friend Rogue, incapable of physical human contact…probably for the rest of her life," she added sadly. "And yet here she is, with others her own age, learning, being accepted—not feared."

"What'll happen to her?" Logan asked.

He was protective of the girl, very quickly, it seemed. So the lone Wolverine made a friend. How peculiar.

"Well, that's up to her: rejoin the world as an educated young woman or stay on to teach others and become what the students affectionately call X-Men."

Charlotte would admit it. She was fond of the nickname, which stemmed from the students' preference of calling her Professor X. At the time, the six year old Wanda and Pietro had enthusiastically encouraged it. (Though he'd never admit it aloud, Pietro still loved the name.)

"But the school is merely our public face," she informed him. "The lower levels, however, are an _entirely_ different matter."

"When I was a girl, I discovered that I had the power to read and control people's minds, to make them think or do whatever I wanted. Soon after I earned my doctorate, I met a man my age known as Erik Lehnsherr. He too had an unusual power: he could create magnetic fields and control metal. Believing that humanity would never accept us, he grew angry and vengeful. He became Magneto," she said sadly and bitterly spat out the name.

In the background, the twins stiffened simultaneously at the name: a mannerism they had picked up long ago.

"There are mutants out there with incredible powers, Logan, and many who do not share my respect for mankind. If no one is equipped to oppose him, humanity's days could be over.

"I'll make a deal with you, Logan," she offered. "Give me forty-eight hours to discover what Erik wants with you and I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to help you piece together what you lost…and what you're looking for."

He nodded. "Fine. But no more than forty-eight hours."

"The metal is an alloy called adamantium, supposedly indestructible," Jean told them. "It's been surgically grafted to his entire skeleton."

_Wouldn't Erik love to get his hands on a mutant like Logan,_ was her first thought.

"How could he have survived a procedure like that?" Pietro asked in confusion.

Jean knew the answer as well as Charlotte. "His mutation. He has uncharted regeneration capability, which enables him to heal rapidly. It also makes his age impossible to determine. He could be very well be older than you, Professor."

Charlotte chuckled. "Oh, yes, he is. I met him briefly in 1962," she recalled. "Though I knew he was a mutant, I had no idea of his abilities. It was when Er—_we_ were recruiting mutants for the first time. He looked very much the same, sans the metal. I believe he insulted us then propositioned me, but that may very well be a mistake of my memory," she added with a small smile.

Wanda rolled her eyes and Pietro let out a guffaw. Scott chuckled but then focused once more. "Who did this to him?"

"He doesn't know," Jean explained. "Nor does he remember anything about his life before it happened."

"Experimentation on mutants," the professor said contemptuously. "It's not unheard of, but I've never seen anything like this before."

She pushed back memories from others' minds—_of Shaw-Schmit in Auschwitz, torturing young Erik into forcing him to use his powers—of Stryker's base that they had rescued Erik, beaten black and blue, drugged to helplessness—of the experimentation Scott as a young boy had suffered there—of the tortures Cordelia Frost had withstood there for years—_

But none of the physical experimentation had really gone this far...

"What do you think Magneto wants with him?" Wanda asked quietly.

Charlotte made a note to look into that, aside from his metallic skeleton, but she focused.

"I'm not entirely sure it's him Erik wants."


	20. Book 3: Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**_"…Maybe I have been here before  
I know this room, I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew you  
I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
Love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah…"_**

**~ "Hallelujah", Leonard Cohen  
**

* * *

"What are you looking for, Erik?" she pondered as she studied Logan's x-rays once more. "Strange. There are more powerful mutants out there; why should this one be so important?"

"Maybe it's his way with people," Scott muttered scathingly. Pietro grinned slightly.

Charlotte chuckled. "You don't like him." It was obvious to the headmistress, even if she wasn't a telepath. She could _see_ the vibes of dislike between the two men.

"How could you tell?" he asked wryly.

"Well, I am psychic, you know," the professor replied with a smile.

Logan and Storm hurried in abruptly. "Where is she?" Logan demanded.

"Who?" Scott asked. Charlotte's eyes widened as she scanned the school hurriedly. "Rogue...she's gone."

* * *

"_Welcome, Professor_," Cerebro's automated voice greeted her. She led Logan inside the vast room. "Welcome to Cerebro," she told him.

He was unimpressed. "Well, this certainly is a...big, round room."

"The brainwaves of mutants are different from average human beings," she explained patiently. "This device amplifies my powers, allowing me to locate mutants across great distances. That's how I intent to find Rogue."

"Why don't you just use it to find Magneto?"

Charlotte shook her head to him. "I've been trying, but he has a helmet that shields himself from telepaths and Cerebro."

Logan paused. "How would he know how to do that?"

She smiled, bittersweet memories coming to mind. "He was there when I first tried the original out. He watched and knew how it worked. He assisted when we discussed improvements to make," she replied but confessed, "He knows Cerebro nearly as well as I. Now if you'll excuse me..."

* * *

_MOTHER!_

The desperate mental scream made her jump. _Pietro? What's wrong?_

_Magneto's goons are at the train station, Mum! Storm, Scott, and I were ambushed! Logan came after Rogue anyways, they're after him—_

_I'll be there as soon as possible. Hold on._

"Jean, Wanda! We need to get to that train station _immediately_!"

* * *

The police were already there, outside, waiting when Erik and his two followers left the building. So were Charlotte, Jean, and Wanda, in a car behind all the police. The women sat in silence, watching from others' eyes.

"Alright, hold it! Hold it right there!" one of the policemen ordered. "Stay where you are and put your hands over your heads!"

She flinched at the mistake, knowing what was about to happen. Erik smiled from under the helmet and did as they asked. As he raised his hands, several police cars rose into the air as well, before dropping suddenly onto other cars. Charlotte watched as he flung their guns away too and turned them on the shocked police.

_Erik, please don't do this_, she thought to him, even though he didn't hear.

"You _Homo Sapiens_ and your guns," he mocked. And that was it.

Charlotte snatched at Sabretooth's mind, shoving her mind into his, throwing his control away as easily as Erik had thrown the guns. She did the same to Toad and forced Sabretooth to grab Erik's throat.

"_That's enough, Erik_," she/Sabretooth said.

Toad nodded. "_Let them go_."

He glanced at them before turning to look out at the cars. "Why don't you come out where I can see you, Charlotte?" he yelled.

"_What do you want her for?_" she made Sabretooth say.

He smirked ever so slightly. "Can't you read my mind?" he asked ironically. "But now, to save the girl, you'll have to kill me, Charlotte."

The ultimatum made the professor grit her teeth. Damn him, he knew she wouldn't do that… Beside the professor, her daughter and Jean glanced at her in concern.

"And what will that accomplish?" he continued. "Let them pass that law and they'll have you in chains with a number burned into your forehead."

"_It won't be that way,_" she replied calmly. She tried not to sound as if pleading.

Erik smirked. "Then kill me and find out." Charlotte pursed her lips. "No?" he asked when she did nothing. "Then release me."

Instead of replying, she made Toad walk away, carrying Rogue with him.

"_Fine_," he whispered and released the safety of one of the policemen's guns, pointing it to the man's head. And fired.

Bystanders screamed. Charlotte winced...

...but the bullet was levitating less than an inch from the man's head. _Just as easily as he stopped the bullet aimed for her head, so many years ago..._

"Care to push your luck, Charlotte?" he asked as the other guns' safety was turned off and the clicks of the guns were audibly threatening.

The telepaths' eyes met reluctantly.

"I don't think I can stop them all," he threatened.

Charlotte released his henchmen.

He chuckled. "Still unwilling to make sacrifices, Charlotte," he remarked derisively. "That's what makes you weak. Even after all these years." The professor winced at that.

Before anything more could be done, a helicopter landed—piloted by Raven.

"Goodbye, Charlotte," he called over his shoulder and they escaped.

_Goodbye, Erik_, she thought to herself and closed her eyes in failure.


	21. Book 3: Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**_"…There was a time  
You let me know  
What's real and going on below  
But now you never show it to me, do you?"_**

**~ "Hallelujah", Leonard Cohen  
**

* * *

"Senator Kelly? I'm Professor Charlotte Xavier," she introduced herself quietly to the ill man.

His breathing was shallow as he replied, "I was afraid…if I went to the hospital…they would…" he trailed off uncomfortably.

"Treat you like a mutant?" she supplied. Kelly didn't meet her eyes.

"We're not what you think," Charlotte informed him gently. "Not all of us."

He gulped, straining to breath. "Tell that…to the ones who did this to me." From his mind, she caught a flash of Erik's face.

"Senator, I want you to try and relax," she told him, subtly calming his frightened mind as she put her hands on the sides of his head. "I'm not going to hurt you."

_…emerging from the ocean—now fully aware that he was one of the _things_ he feared so much…the hating, fearing looks of people watching him on the beach…slipping through the cell bars to escape…a blinding light emanating from a strange machine…_

There.

_She dipped into that memory: Kelly, strapped to a chair, watching as Magneto used a fantastic machine. It hurt and left him smoking slightly. When it was over, Erik emerged—weak, slumped over. Raven went to him and helped him up, with his arm around her neck. _

_"Welcome to the future, _brother_," he told Kelly as they passed. _

_His voice was weaker, more tired than Charlotte had heard in years. Likely since she fished him out of the ocean to prevent him from drowning, all those years ago…_

* * *

"The machine emits radiation that triggers mutation in ordinary human beings," she explained.

"But the mutation is unnatural," Jean threw in. "Kelly's body is rejecting it. His cells began to break down almost immediately."

Beside her, Scott asked, "What effect does the radiation have on mutants?"

"There appears to be none," Charlotte mused. "But I fear it will seriously harm any normal person exposed to it."

Logan's thoughts were a jumble as he tried to untangle the plan behind all of this. "But what does Magneto want with Rogue?"

"I don't—" she paused mid sentence. "Actually… It seemed to be that the machine was drawing its power from Erik. It nearly killed him in the process. I believe he's going to use Rogue in his place."

There was a pause as they took in the full ramification of this.

"Cyclops, you and Storm ready the jet to find Rogue," she directed. "Jean, get Logan a uniform."

"Whoa," Scott objected. "He's not coming with us, is he?"

She nodded. "Yes," Charlotte replied in a clipped tone, leaving no room for argument.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but he'll endanger the mission."

Logan turned quickly. "Hey, I wasn't the one who gave the train station a new sunroof, pal."

_Logan!_ she snapped.

Scott was unperturbed. "No, you were the one who stabbed Rogue through the chest."

Jean's eyes widened. "Scott—"

"Hey, why don't you take your mission and shove it up—"

Storm flew into the room, her mind panicking. "Senator Kelly is dead," she reported. The argument fell silent.

"I'm going to find her," Charlotte told them firmly. "Settle this."

_Erik, what are you doing?_ She thought to herself as she made her way to Cerebro. She slipped the helmet on and began the machine, when—

A cry of pain escaped her. It felt like red-hot spikes were being shoved into her skull—not as bad as a coin through the forehead or a bullet to her spine, but—

She shoved the helmet from her head, dizzy with pain as she tried to leave. Slumped forward, she only managed to tumble from the wheelchair to the floor heavily.

Her temple connected with the platform painfully.

_Jean—_ she cried out.

Black.


	22. Book 3: Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**_"And remember when I moved in you?  
The holy dark was moving to  
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah…"_**

**~ "Hallelujah", Leonard Cohen  
**

* * *

In the darkness, some words filtered into her mind, like spots of sunshine on a cloudy day.

There was yelling from Wanda, Pietro, Jean, Storm, and Scott as they rushed to her aid…

It was a struggle to listen, to try and focus…It made her weary. She wondered if Erik felt this tired after his attempt with his machine…

Distantly, she heard Scott. "_You've taught me everything in my life that's worth knowing…if anything happens, I'll take care of them—the twins and everyone else._"

She found comfort in these words.

There was only silence afterward. She hoped that meant they were trying to stop Erik.

* * *

_Would the Wolverine ever learn_? Erik thought as he sensed the mutant's signature adamantium nearby. Getting him out of the way was simple and, in the metal structure the X-Men stood in, pinning the rest was hardly more difficult.

"Ah, my brothers, welcome," he greeted dryly as he levitated down to them. The magnetokinetic looked to Logan. "You. Hm, let's point those claws of yours in a safer direction," he murmured and maneuvered the mutant's arms to his chest. Should he attempt to utilize his claws, he would instead impale himself upon them. _Child's play_.

"You had better close your eyes," he advised Scott Summers as Sabretooth removed the visor from his head.

The boy's determination wasn't so easily abated. "Storm," he said. "Fry 'em."

Erik snorted.

The youngest of the three women sighed loudly. "Scott, we're all trapped inside one immense copper conductor," Wanda told him but regarded Erik coolly. He could see the accusation in his daughter's eyes.

He felt a twinge of guilt for this, for fighting his own children like this. The possibility that his plan might kill the humans nearby didn't bother him; seeing the accusation in his daughter's eyes—which were Charlotte's eyes—did. For a single moment, he hesitated.

The twins had always been a source of some guilt for him. He'd originally thought that he would stop fighting this ceaseless war in only a few years and return to Charlotte and their children. Instead, a couple years had slowly grown into a couple decades. Charlotte and he, earlier on, had corresponded frequently and he got updates as the twins grew. Whenever the chance arose, they met, so Wanda and Pietro could meet him. He never wanted to be a stranger to them, but situations arose and he had little choice but to remain distant. Once they were a bit older, enough to understand why he wasn't always there, he began to write to them as well as Charlotte. Azazel had been irreplaceable for his tolerance for delivering their correspondence and for keeping it a secret. He'd been killed in a skirmish only a handful of years ago; it was only then that he had not been able to safely contact Charlotte any longer. And the twins had, as they had fully matured into adults, nearly become strangers.

Erik forced himself not to linger on that thread of guilt. Not now.

"Indeed," he said to Wanda and turned to sneered slightly at Cyclops. "I thought you lived at a school."

He turned his attention elsewhere and reached for the earpiece. "Mystique," he said to it. There was no response. "Mystique?" _She's down then_, he thought with a slight grimace.

"I've seen Senator Kelly," spoke the telepath in training.

"So, the good senator survived his fall?" he asked curiously. "And to swim to shore? He's become even more powerful than I could have imagined."

"_He's dead_," she snapped.

"It's true," Ororo Monroe spoke up. "I saw him die—like those people down there will die."

Erik leaned forward. "Are you sure you saw what you saw?" he asked and stepped back to address them all. "Why do none of you understand what I'm trying to do? Those people down there, they can control our fate—_and the fate of every other mutant out there!_" he exclaimed.

"Soon, our fate will be theirs," he added confidently.

Pietro, pinned to the wall beside his sister, snarled. "_You bastard_—you'll kill them!"

"A risk I must take," he replied calmly.

"What would she think?" the redheaded Maximoff asked lowly, accusingly. Erik looked to her curiously. "What would Charlotte think?"

He drew in a deep breath. "That is precisely the thing you do not understand. I am doing this for Charlotte and all the other mutants out there, including yourself."

It was then that the girl above decided to speak up. "Help! _Please help me!_"

Wolverine glared furiously. "You're so fulla shit!" he spat. "If you were really so righteous, it'd be you in that thing."

"_Help! Somebody help me!_"

The magnetokinetic did not reply to Logan, merely levitating himself up into the air, under the fireworks now coloring the sky, to the statue's torch.

After opening the hatch, he looked down to the girl inside, staring at him in fear.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he told the girl as he reached forward. She looked to him in fear, pleading. "Don't do this…" He placed his hands on her head. There was pain in him as he felt his magnetism leaving him, and sheer exhaustion as his energy fled him.

The girl screamed and he stumbled back, out onto the balcony, where he collapsed against the rail.

From below, he heard shouts and Sabretooth's roaring—until said mutant was sent hurtling from the Statue of Liberty…and the Wolverine came flying to the device, carried by the wind.

Erik reached out, forcing his power to work and bend Logan's claws. If he failed now…

And then he was struck by Scott Summer's energy beams, sending him falling to the platform below.

He blacked out.

* * *

The magnetokinetic woke up minutes later in time to see the X-Men's jet leaving and to hear the sound of the Coast Guard boats pulling up to the island with the authorities pouring onto the island.

Exhausted by transferring his power to the girl, he had no energy left to attempt escape now.

Erik closed his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled back to unconsciousness.

_I've failed once more, Liebling_.

* * *

Charlotte woke to find the twins beside her in the hospital room.

"Welcome back," her daughter told her. "I knew you'd find your way."

The professor smiled tiredly. "How did we do?"

She never had quite broke that habit of asking questions to which she already knew the answer.

Pietro gave her a wide grin. Wanda glanced over and Charlotte followed her gaze to find Logan unconscious and bloody on the cot across from her.

"Good," she said quietly. "I can fulfill my promise to him after all."


	23. Book 3: Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**_"…Maybe there's a god above  
And all I ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you  
And it's not a cry you can hear at night,  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's cold and it's a broken Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah"_**

**~ "Hallelujah", Leonard Cohen  
**

* * *

Two days later found Charlotte exhausted but finally able to rest. It had taken time to settle the ruffled feathers the near-success of Erik's plan had caused. Of course, she was known as a mutant expert.

It was no surprise when she was contacted about assisting with creating a prison that would hold Magneto. With a reluctant heart that screamed '_Traitor!_', she gave vague advice that Magneto's powers concerned only metal and magnetism. They designed and created the plastic and glass prison from there. Charlotte felt no less guilty for it.

That stress did nothing to alleviate the bone-deep exhaustion that pervaded her entirely. The painkillers she took did nothing for the constant headache that lingered.

Jean worried enough about the professor's health for the two of them. Despite how much she fretted that the sabotage of Cerebro might have done her serious harm, Charlotte merely rested, fully confident that the side effects would fade in time.

She didn't say that her lack of worry for that was because she knew Erik would never have done that unless he knew for certain it would not do her harm, despite his recently-increased streak of violence. He would never have risked it. Charlotte knew this, but the others did not have the same faith in his affection for her. They all seemed to think Erik was one day going to take advantage of that faith Charlotte had in him in order to kill his supposed 'enemy'.

(Neither did she allow herself to even admit to herself that—were he to actually do that and betray and kill her—she would rather it be in an indirect manner like this rather than him, face-to-face, killing her directly. She'd rather die a thousand times than look him in the eye as he killed her directly, to see his betrayal plainly before her, even if it was only once. Seeing that betrayal, looking him in the eye as he killed her, would break her. Utterly, completely.)

Her children did not feel the same.

Days after she had woken and Jean had cleared her to start working again, the telepath found herself in her sitting room with the twins. Pietro was annoyed and upset, his sister unsettled.

The telepath watched calmly as her son paced.

"I don't get it, Mum!" he exclaimed, words slightly British (Wanda had more of an English accent than her brother's middling American-Londoner intonation.) "He nearly kills you just to get you out of the way so you don't interfere with his plans—_and you're not even upset, not even a bit?_"

The professor sighed and picked up her cup of fresh earl grey tea. "Of course I'm upset, _mein schatz_." She paused to sip at the hot beverage. "But were I to take this personally every time something of this nature occurs, I would surely be heartbroken by now."

"_Aren't you_?" he demanded furiously.

Charlotte's eyebrows rose quickly in surprise. Wanda, from her spot looking out the window, turned abruptly. "_Pietro!_" she hissed. "Don't—"

But he waved her off. "It's true—you both know it. He has _always_ done this and _always_ will do this! He carelessly thinks only about the Brotherhood and fighting humans—he don't even care if he hurts you or us in the mean time! Even when you don't get hurt, whenever something involving him comes up, I can see that depression set in. You don't even show it! You never blame him, never get angry, never—_anything!_ All you do is say 'He's doing what he thinks is right'—or, 'He's trying to protect us'. After everything he's done—after paralyzing you and abandoning you and Uncle Hank, Alex, and Sean in Cuba, after becoming a terrorist, after becoming your enemy—_you still love him_."

Sorrowfully, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Oh, Pietro. As much of him that I see in you, I fear you may never understand your father. Or me. For him, the anti-mutant crisis is very similar to his childhood when the Nazis were taking power in Germany. He sees many of the same warning signs and fears mutants being captured and taken away like his family and other Jews were. He hears talk of scientists and theories about mutants and thinks about the experimentation he suffered while in Auschwitz. He sees the news of mutants being killed simply for their genetics and fears that one day, it may be me who is shot because I say something that I shouldn't know—or your sister getting taken away because she accidentally affected the outcome of the lottery—or you, beaten because you moved quicker than is natural. He remembers his mother being shot before him and fears that, one day, it might be you or me.

"Neither of us…_wanted_ to be this involved. I didn't want to _need to_ teach children how to defend themselves. Erik does not want to hurt any innocents. I don't want to be in charge of the X-Men; nor does your father want to be the Brotherhood's leader. We were drafted into this supposed-war. We don't want to fight it nor fight against each other. But…if we don't fight, who will? One day…one day, when it comes time for Magneto to hang up his cape and helmet and for the X-Men to retire their uniforms, then…then we will seek each other out and, I believe, have a very long conversation about our futures."

The boy gave a huff of aggravation. "Mum, he _left_ you on a _Cuban beach_ during the missile crisis, after _shooting you_ in the back, _paralyzing you_—and after he'd knocked you up, but you—"

Her tea cup fell from her hands and shattered on the floor, silencing the room. The professor was white as a sheet as she stared at him, face indecipherable. His sister looked horrified.

"Mum—I'm—I—"

"_Don't_," she whispered, quickly schooling her features sadly. "It's alright, Pietro. You did not mean to bring that up. But…I love your father. I can barely recall a time that I did not. It has been forty odd years. Were it not for this 'war', I do believe he would be here with us. For now…all I can do is wait. He has done terrible things but so have I. You forget it was I who sold him out to the government. Erik has never breathed a word of my being a mutant. And every time, he goes out of his way to ensure I am out of the way and safe. Like recently—he could have killed me. He could have done many, many things. But he did not.

"For now…not taking it personally is the only thing I can do to not hate him…or myself."


	24. Book 3: Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**_"Love is not a victory march.  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah."_**

**~ "Hallelujah", Leonard Cohen**

* * *

After Logan woke, that was exactly what she did and told him of her suspicions involving an abandoned military base near Alkali Lake. He left soon after on Scott's motorcycle. (To her amusement and Scott's annoyance.)

They listened on the news as the Mutant Registration Act did not pass because of the sudden reversal of Senator Kelly's position on it. "Senator Kelly" who she could recognize as Raven in disguise.

Which led her to here—Erik's plastic prison.

As she set up the plastic chessboard, Erik smiled slightly at her in greeting. "I don't suppose you're here to help me break out," he said wryly.

She chuckled fondly but sadly. "Unfortunately not, Erik."

"I didn't think so," he replied and watched her make the first move. "Are you well?"

Charlotte visibly paused. "Ah, you mean your trick with Cerebro. Yes, I have recovered. Thank you."

He nodded. "Good. I intended for it to be so," the prisoner paused. "How are the twins?"

Affection warmed his thoughts. _They've grown_, he thought to her, _Since I saw them last_.

Despite herself, she smiled slightly. "They are well. Wanda…well, she's as levelheaded as ever. And I see more of their father in Pietro every day. "

"Not too much, I hope," he replied, bittersweet.

As she moved her queen, he then inquired, "The others?"

The telepath glanced at him. "Well enough," she replied neutrally.

"And the girl?"

This made her freeze completely. "Don't," she said roughly. "Don't ask me about any of my students, _my children_, you set up to have killed—purposefully, when she had no defense."

Erik nodded. He could understand that. Despite that the students weren't her offspring, she was as protective of those children as she was to their first group, so long ago. She was still an angry mother bear when it came to her students, who were as much her children as the twins.

_My apologies_, he told her. He was surprised to find that he meant it.

They played in silence for ten minutes until he can no longer restrain his question.

"Does it ever wake you at night?" he asked her, "The feeling that someday they will pass that foolish law or one just like it and come for you, your children, your students?"

He met her gaze. "It does indeed," she replied, voice soft with her sincerity.

After taking one of her pawns, he asked, "What do you do when you wake up to that?"

Charlotte smiled humorlessly. "I'll feel a great swell of pity for the poor soul that comes to my school looking for trouble."

Erik stared at her, as if trying to read her thoughts.

_I'm sorry it has come to this,_ she told him quietly.

He chuckled. _No prison stands forever. Especially not a plastic prison. And for now, this is as good a place as any to be._

_Until Raven can spring you, Erik?_ She hypothesized and shook her head. _That was not to which I referred, however. I meant this, us, on different sides—fighting against each other._

He did not reply until after two turns between them. The only sound was the movement of the chess pieces on the board.

As he paused to consider the board, Charlotte studied her old friend. Her blue eyes traced his aged but handsome features, his near-white hair, his grey-green eyes.

She suddenly felt every year of her age—so tired, so old. Her own hair had long since gone completely grey; it was now just past her shoulders, curls now tame compared to that in her youth, the rich brown now completely silver. Lines were etched into her face: crow's feet around her eyes, her forehead bore lines that betrayed her stress. Once, she might have been called beautiful; now, she was wrinkled and grey, thinner and smaller now than she could ever recall. Charlotte felt so old, so tired, so weary of the fighting.

Looking at her old friend, she felt suddenly robbed. They could have had a life together, had a family, made her school more of a home. They might have been married, might have raised the twins together, might have lived their lives together and grown old together.

Instead, they had been drafted into this seemingly ceaseless war as generals on opposing sides. Erik had ran the Brotherhood, struck back against anti-mutant prejudice and violence, had her sister with him for all these years too. Charlotte had ran the school, raised students, protected children, led the X-Men.

It had been a good life, but it might have been a great one were it not for their damn pride that refused to allow them to end this.

In that moment, the telepath knew that if she had one wish in the world, it would be to go back and fix this, to put aside her pride, to convince Erik to do the same, to live their lives together and happy rather than far apart and longing. The idea of a whole life with him was almost too sweet to imagine and she tucked the thought aside lest the bittersweet taste of it prove too tempting.

Eventually, he projected to her and returned her mind to the present.

_I am glad the girl is alive and well,_ he thought to her.

_I apologize,_ he added eventually,_ for tampering with Cerebro. I did not intent for it to harm you, only remove you from the equation until the fighting is over._

Charlotte smiled. _Still trying to protect me, Erik? _she asked fondly. A quick flicker of images, of memories followed—

_The first night they met, he glared at any of the crewmen who dared leer at her as she huddled in her soaked, clinging clothes…_

_…Him watching her vigilantly as she tried Cerebro for the first time…_

_…Training the children (now adults, left the nest), watching over her even as she sometimes endangered herself while doing so, like the once with Alex…_

_…his scream of "_No!_" as she fired the gun at her temple point blank for him to stop…_

_…making sure she stayed in the crashed jet, where her safety was all but ensured, while the others fought off Shaw and his henchmen…_

_…holding her after she was shot, cradling her protectively…_

_…storming to the Xavier mansion, worried for her, despite that he might be attacked for doing so, just because she had not replied to his letter…_

_…infiltrating Stryker's base without her, for fear of her being captured and experiment on like they had on him, like the Nazis had…_

He stilled for a long moment. Finally he nodded. _Yes, I suppose I do. I try to protect you whenever I can, but I feel as if I only ever manage to do is hurt you._

As the guard entered to help her leave, he asked, "Why do you come in here, Charlotte?"

"Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers, love?" the telepath replied with a nostalgic tone.

He smiled. "Oh, yes. You continue to search for hope."

She nodded and sent him another memory, of a blissful afternoon in the mansion before Cuba—_her discovering a lost memory of his mother. Charlotte, so much younger and more whole, told him sincerely, "There is so much more to you than you know. Not just pain and anger. There's good too—I felt it."_

It tightened her throat but she added, _I still feel it there, my love. _

He faltered at the memory, but he wasn't finished. "You know this plastic prison of theirs won't hold me forever. The war is still coming, Liebling, and I intend to fight it. By any means necessary."

The professor leaned over closer to him. "And I will always be there, love," she promised.

It was a promise Charlotte intended to keep.

* * *

**End of Book 3**


	25. Book 4: Chapter 1

**Book 4: This is War**

* * *

**Chapter 1: A Warning**

**_"A warning to the people,  
The good and the evil:  
This is war.  
To the soldier, the civilian  
The martyr, the victim:  
This is war."_**

**~ "This is War", 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

Charlotte wasn't surprised the field trip ended in having to pause everyone in the food court to wipe people's memory of one of the students' powers. She was, however, at least hoping that the older ones would have had the sense not to be the ones to cause it. Well, the professor told herself as she wheeled into the food court, children are children.

"Bobby, what did you do?" Rogue asked in shock at the sight of the frozen people.

He shook his head. "I didn't do this..."

"No," Charlotte said, coming up to them, "I did." At least they had the sense to look shamefaced and thoroughly chastised without her having to say more. "The next time you feel like showing off, don't."

John nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Before she unfroze the other people, the television drew her attention.

"...We're coming to you live from Washington, where there's been an attack in the Oval Office of the White House. Details are still coming in but we have been informed that the President and Vice President were not harmed. Sources say the attack involved one or more mutants…"

Scott spoke up. "I think it's time to leave, Professor."

The telepath nodded. "I think you're right." And the food court leapt back to life as she released their minds.

* * *

"In my opinion, Magneto's behind this," Scott said stubbornly.

Jean shook her head. "No, I don't think so, Scott."

The professor hummed in thought. "While Erik is capable of organizing something like this from prison, from him this is irrational. It would only hurt his goal of mutant prosperity."

She knew it in her bones that he wouldn't do this. She could feel it.

"You mean superiority," Pietro corrected quietly.

Her lips thinned for a moment. "You're right," she admitted, "Had Erik had his way."

Storm spoke up. "And of course, you know how the government will respond. They'll reintroduce the Mutant Registration Act."

"Or worse," Charlotte added, "The President could declare a state of emergency and place every mutant in the country under arrest."

"Do you think the assassin was working alone?" Jean asked.

"Well, we'll only know that if we find him before the authorities do," the telepath said. "I've been trying to track him using Cerebro but his movements are inexplicably erratic. When I have more exact coordinates, Storm, Jean, I'll need you to take the jet to try and pick him up."

They all file out to leave her to her work.

She doesn't say that she has a suspect in mind of who the mutant is or who he is related to, but she's quite certain nevertheless.

* * *

"…We've managed to gather evidence of a training facility in the Salem area of Upstate New York," Stryker informed the President.

That was her sister's school in the photos…

"And where did you get this information?" the President asked curiously.

Stryker looked smug at that. "Interrogation of one of the mutant terrorists from the Liberty Island incident."

Mystique straightened. "Erik?" she said before she could stop herself, but calmed herself. "Erik Lehnsherr? You have access to him?"

He nodded. "Magneto, yes. We developed the technology that built his plastic prison."

If he was willing to give up the location of Charlotte's school, something was wrong. She needed to break him out sooner than planned…

The disguised mutant looked down at the photographs and something twisted in her gut. "This facility is a school," she told them. She owed it to her sister, to her former home, to Charlotte's successful dream, to try and protect them.

Stryker snorted. "Sure it is," he replied doubtfully.

As the President gave his permission for Stryker to proceed, Mystique's plan changed in her mind. Against her and Magneto or not, there were mutant children in that school and. Well. Attacking them, attacking her childhood home, attacking her sister, was something she would not stand for.

"Do you really want to turn this into some kind of war?" she asked Stryker later.

His face hardened. "…This already is a war."


	26. Book 4: Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**_"A warning to the prophet, the liar, the honest  
This is war.  
To the leader, the pariah, the victim, the messiah  
This is war."_**

**~ "This is War", 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

If someone asked him who he hated most in the world, for many years Erik Lehnsherr would have said Sebastian Shaw. Even after the man was dead, Erik's hatred remained because, though his search for Shaw may have led him to find Charlotte, it was Shaw who initiated the division between them as well.

Until recently, however.

Erik was surprised at himself, at the boiling pit of hatred he felt whenever Stryker came to mind. Stryker, who had a brainwashing serum that overpowered Erik's control and his loyalty to mutants—to Charlotte, even—and made the secrets spill forth.

He was in the middle of _The Once and Future King_ when he heard the guard approaching. He took a steadying breath, knowing what was next. "Mr. Laurio, how long can we keep this up?"

"How long is your sentence?" the guard replied, closing the book for him.

The word was bitter in his mouth. "Forever."

"Not necessarily forever, Mr. Lehnsherr," came Stryker's loathed voice as he strode into the room. "Just until I've got all that I need."

That was one thing he disliked about Stryker. He was insistent upon using his real name instead of calling him Magneto like everyone else. Erik hated that. It seemed to him that Erik Lehnsherr died many years ago and only Charlotte could resurrect that side of him again. Only Charlotte could he tolerate calling him Erik Lehnsherr. From anyone else's mouth…

"Mr. Stryker," he greeted coldly. "How kind of you to visit. Are you here to make sure the taxpayer's dollars are making me comfortable?"

Instead of replying, Stryker pulled the tell-tale serum from his pocket and the guard slammed Erik down to the desk by his neck, pulling his collar back. He struggled, but he was old and not as strong as he once was. Against the guard, he felt even weaker.

The serum burned into the skin of his neck. By now, he was certain it had left a scar: another scar from another tyrant.

His muscles went nearly limp.

"You can go," Stryker told the guard and pulled Erik back in his chair. "Mr. Lehnsherr, I'd like to have one final talk about the house that Xavier built and the machine called Cerebro."

Erik had never realized how many of Charlotte's secrets he knew, how many things he knew that could be used to destroy her, until Stryker had stolen them all.

He wished the serum would kill him; that would be better than this.

* * *

"I need you to watch over the children tonight, Logan," she told him. It wasn't a question. "Scott and I are going to visit an old friend."

He laughed. "You want _me _to be your babysitter?"

"Think of it more as…extra security while I'm gone," she replied with an amused twitch of her lips. "Not being a nanny and tucking them in. Just watching over the mansion to be sure the students are safe."

* * *

"I've got her from here," the guard offered to a reluctant Scott. He allowed him to take charge of the professor's wheelchair.

Charlotte was patient as they scanned her first for metal and finally wheeled her into the prison. It was old hat now because of how often she's visited. She'd made a point to visit every Friday for a talk and the possibility of chess. But it was a Tuesday.

"Charlotte Xavier, have you come to rescue me?" he asked. It had become his usual greeting.

She did not smile as usual. "Sorry, love. Not today," she replied as she wheeled over to the table.

He glanced at her curiously over his shoulder. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The assassination attempt on the President," the telepath replied. "What do you know about it?"

With his back to her, she could see a scar at the nape of his neck, just below his hair. She wondered how long ago he had gotten it, if it was one of her students, one of her X-Men, who gave it to him…

His response was quick and honest. "Nothing. Only what I read in the papers. You really shouldn't have to ask, Charlotte."

She met his gaze and she could feel his sudden guilt and horror but nothing distinct. Concerned, the professor leaned forward in her wheelchair. "What's happened to you, Erik?"

"I've been getting recent visits from William Stryker," he replied grimly. "You remember him, don't you?"

Confused, she wheeled closer. "William Stryker?" she quietly repeated.

"His son, Jason, was once a student of yours, wasn't he?"

Charlotte nodded. "Yes…years ago. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to help him. At least…not in the way his father wanted."

Erik stood and began pacing. "And you think taking in the Wolverine will make up for your failure with Stryker's son? You haven't told him about his past, have you?"

"I've put him on the path," she replied. "Logan's mind is still fragile…"

He snorted. "Is it? Or are you afraid of losing one of your precious X-Men, Liebling?" He gave her an urgent look. She looked to his mind in concern.

_Read me_, he thought to her.

She did.

_Stryker—armed with some sort of serum that burned…his tongue loosening of its own volition…secrets spilling from his mouth … information about his and her pasts … even something slipped out about their little names for each other, 'love' and 'Liebling' … the truth about Wanda and Pietro Maximoff's actual parentage… the truth about her mutation, her school, her power, her students …the truth about that, too… and then her school…_

"What have you done, Erik?" she said in horror.

His grey eyes were regretful, horrified. "I'm sorry, Charlotte."

"What did you tell Stryker?"

Erik's reply was shaky. "Everything."

She clenched her eyes shut and curled her fists on the armrests as her breath caught in her throat. The professor did not look at him. "I must go immediately. If the school is at risk, there's no time to waste. Not with Stryker. I need to ready our security and defenses—"

"Charlotte."

Reluctantly, the telepath looked to him, guarded and torn. "Erik."

He stood and met her eyes regretfully. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

The prisoner stared at her with pained grey eyes. "I am, Liebling."

"_I know_," she repeated sharply, turning her chair to face the exit. "You said. I feel your regret, Erik. I know you well enough after these years…even without reading your mind. I know."

Her lips thinned, white in her unusually pale face as she tried to signal the end of her visit to the guards. They didn't seem to notice.

The magnetokinetic reached and grasped her hand. "You know I would never have betrayed you if I had the option. Stryker—"

"What do you want me to say, Erik?" she interrupted, nearly shouting as she pulled her hand from his grasp. "I know you'd never have betrayed me. I know you have no option. _I know_. What more would you have me say? That I forgive you?"

His shoulders dropped slightly. He didn't need to reply. His entire mind sang with _YES!_

"I can't forgive you for this, Erik!" she exclaimed. "Not if—if—"

Her voice broke and she closed her eyes as she struggled for the words. "If someone is killed, if any of my children are hurt, if my school is invaded while they are there…I will never forgive you. I cannot. I will not. Not this time."

"Charlotte—" his voice cracked. "Please."

"No," she snapped and turned to look at him with pained but resolute eyes. "I should have wiped it from your memory—Westchester, the mansion, the school. After Cuba—once I recovered, I wiped it from Moira's mind. The children suggested that, when we next saw you, they fight you until they ripped that damn helmet from your head so I could make you forget—for our own protection. I refused because I thought it was safe with you. Because I trusted you."

Her blue eyes were furious and heartbroken as she looked at him. "I was wrong."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "And yet, I recall my identity being betrayed to the government some years ago." Erik's tone was cool, his eyes sharp.

"You were about to ignite a war with the Friends of Humanity and every other human out there!" she spat. "A war mutants are hopelessly, _laughably_ outnumbered in! There was no chance—there _is_ no chance of mutants winning a war against billions of humans!"

"I forgave you nevertheless," he snapped. "Even after you recently assisted the government in keeping me here."

The professor's serene façade was gone, burned away in her ire. "_You might have just killed them all—all my children, all my family, my children!_" she screamed. "The twins might be captured, hunted, tortured, killed now—because the mansion is vulnerable and Stryker knows who they are! I don't _care_ if Stryker knows about the mansion—I care that he knows _who_ lives within it!

"I only gave your name because I knew they had no chance of catching you. And now, I only assisted because I know you won't remain in here forever."

"Still confident in me, then," he remarked dryly.

Her lip curled (if Erik didn't know any better, he'd have thought it a snarl). "I know you, Erik. After all these years, I know how you think. You won't let little thing like this plastic prison stop you. I know you, Erik Magnus Lehnserr. Once you set your eyes on a goal, you grip it tight and will move heaven and earth to achieve it, no matter who you have to hurt to get there!"

Charlotte, once incited, had a fury to match his, though it was never seen. Now, in that tiny plastic prison, as she forced the guards' minds away from the shouting (thankful that there were no cameras), her rage surfaced past her calm, professorial mask. But Erik was never one to be impressed by the intensity of her anger.

"I'm doing this for _you_—for the twins—for all mutants!" he yelled. "Don't you—"

"For me?" she spat. "Don't you _ever_ say you are starting this war, committing this terrorism, killing these people _in my name!_ You think you're helping us—helping _me?_

"All you've ever done—all you ever do—is hurt me! It's like every time you touch me…something breaks. Something in me. Every time you get too close or I let down my guard or try to trust you. My hope that we could work together for a common goal—you broke that in our last chess game before Cuba. My spine, my ability to walk on that beach. And ever since…it's only ever been slowly killing my heart."

The words tasted like ash and Cuban sand in her mouth. There was a pain in her back; she wondered if it would ever leave.

Erik deflated suddenly, like the air let out of a balloon. "Charlotte," he whispered remorsefully. "If I had known—if I had been there…"

"You were never there!" she snapped. "Not after Cuba—not after helping put a bullet in my back, not after making me paraplegic, not after Anya _died!_ You weren't there! Not when the twins were born—or cried in the middle of the night—started walking—got their powers—or grew up. You were never there when I needed you most. You hovered nearby, just out of my peripheral vision—always present, like a ghost, enough to distract me, but never within reach. Which, in the later years, was probably for the best." Her tone turned bitter.

"There was a time," he said softly, "that you called us 'bookends to the same soul,' Charlotte."

The telepath let out the air from her lungs slowly as a single tear pooled in the corner of her left eye and slipped down her cheek. "Yes," she agreed softly. "But do you know what bookends never do? Touch."

He bowed his head and said nothing as one of the guards finally arrived to escort her from the cell. The magnetokinetic couldn't help projecting one last thought to her as she left.

_You should have killed me when you had the chance, Charlotte_.

She gave no response.

He wondered if she agreed.


	27. Book 4: Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**_"…It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie,  
The moment to live and the moment to die  
The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight…"_**

**~ "This is War", 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

The flight back from Erik's prison took longer than expected because of weather; it was nearly three in the morning when the professor and Scott returned to the school.

They came in to find one of the children watching television in the front room.

"Go to bed, Shawn," she instructed gently. The eight year old scurried off as Scott turned off the TV. Voices came from the kitchen and echoed down the wooden corridors.

Charlotte wheeled into the kitchen to find Logan and Bobby sitting at the table—the teen eating a snack, Wolverine drinking a soda.

"Sup, Charlie," the older mutant greeted, raising his bottle slightly.

"Scott, retrieve the twins. Quickly," she instructed. "Bobby, you should return to bed."

The boy wasn't as quick to listen to her as the eight year old boy. "What's wrong, Professor?" he asked.

She hesitated before making a decision. "Go and wake Rogue, John, Kitty, Colossus, and the other older students. Be quick and do not wake or alert the young ones yet. This is urgent."

Bobby nodded and left after Scott.

"Jean and Ororo are still out looking for that mutant," she murmured to herself. They'd have to contact them soon. They weren't due for another two hours, but they needed to be informed quickly…

The telepath looked to Logan. "A man named William Stryker is now aware of my school and my students. It isn't safe here. We need to evacuate to a safe location immediately before he makes his move. Logan, can I count on you?"

He snorted. _You have to ask, Professor?_ He thought but nodded to her. She gave him a look of gratitude but said nothing else as the others hurried in quickly—disheveled, sleepy-eyed, and confused. Bobby followed moments later with the eldest students.

She outlined the situation—Stryker, the danger, the possibility that he'd come after them—but she said nothing of how Stryker had found out.

"We need to wake all the students and get moving quickly," the telepath said. "We need to be discreet. Stryker likely knows about the jet; it's too inconspicuous. The bunker has a secret exit for emergencies, which will be safe to use—"

"Where will we go?" asked Wanda.

Charlotte hummed. "We need to contact Jean and Ororo. But I can call in a favor with Emma or, more likely, Nick Fur—" She stopped suddenly, tilting her head curiously . "Is that—?"

"Helicopters. Several of 'em. Getting' closer," Logan replied, standing from his seat. Bobby went to the window, but it was overcast and no light from the moon lit the grounds, making it impossible to see anything.

The professor's face darkened. "They're coming. Jean, Wanda, Rogue, Kitty, John, go wake the children. The rest of you, we're going to keep them out for as long as possible. Now go!"

The group split. Charlotte turned her attention elsewhere.

"Mum," Pietro said. "You should go too. You shouldn't be here—"

She raised her eyebrow at her son. "I am likely a primary target in this raid, _mein schatz_. If I am here, that will put more focus on me and less on the children, giving them more time to escape. Do not argue."

Scott cleared his throat. "Professor, how close are they? How many?"

Charlotte reached out, sensing the familiar minds of the students and…_nothing_. There was nothing else. No other mind in her reach near the grounds. None. But the helicopters were within her range and so—

The professor grit her teeth. "Stryker's been busy," she muttered before informing the others, "They've got helmet's like Erik's. I can't read them at all. I can't touch them. I don't know how many there are. Take off their helmets if you get the chance and I can take it from there—"

She was interrupted by a black-wearing, Kevlar-sporting, gun-toting man creeping into the kitchen. Pietro was at his side faster than they could see and hit the man atop his head, sending him sprawling to the floor. Not for the first time, she was impressed by her son's speed.

"Here they come," he muttered as several more followed.

Logan sprung instantly and buried his claws into one of the soldiers. "You picked the _wrong_ house, bub," he spat as the man fell, bleeding, to the floor.

Moments after, an ear-splitting shriek woke and alarmed every mind, every person within the house. _Siryn_. They were already reaching the students' dorms then.

Reaching out with her mind, she told her students, _Quickly, go downstairs to the basement. The older students and teachers are there. Move as quickly as you can and stay together!_

She changed focus abruptly as Wolverine ripped a soldier's helmet from his head. The telepath dove into his mind, sharp like barbed wire as she dug through his thoughts, slicing to his memories with neat efficiency.

_Nearly three hundred men, surrounding the mansion, all armed with tranquilizer and guns and an anti-telepath helmet (modeled after the one they'd taken from Magneto). They had to get her, the telepath, Charlotte Xavier—she was the focus. The others were secondary. They were to drug and knock them out—but were not to use deadly force unless absolutely necessary, unless against her. Not Professor Xavier. Stryker had threatened to have their job and their balls if anyone seriously hurt her._

Useful. She hesitated but thundered into his mind, _SLEEP_.

He did.

Logan dropped him and moved on, blades shining red as he fought. Pietro was a blur—flying about, knocking men out, knocking off their helmets. Scott and Bobby were working well together.

They were all in front of her, gathered nearby—hovering protectively around her. How sad.

"Go, damn you!" she yelled. "See to the children! Bobby, Pietro—_go!_ Logan, Scott, let's keep them occupied. I can handle myself, just knock off a few more helmets! They have orders to take us alive—especially me. Now, _go!_"

The two did as she instructed, hurrying off, though Pietro knocked every helmet he could off as he ran at his full speed to find his sister, the children, and the others.

She collected every soldiers' mind she could and seized them instantly, pulling out their tranquilizers and firing them at their comrades—who dropped like fruit flies to the floor.

_Scott, the west wing—cover it! They need more time!_ She ordered and the man hurried off, leaving only the telepath and Logan.

He turned a corner and yelled at the men, "You wanna shoot me, _shoot me!_"

"_Don't shoot him_!" Both Charlotte and Logan stilled at the sharp command. "Not yet." She heard a man stroll down the corridor towards the metal-laced mutant.

"Wolverine? Well, I admit this is certainly the last place I expected to find you. How long has it been—fifteen years? You haven't changed one bit; me, on the other hand, nature. I didn't realize Xavier was taking in animals, even animals as unique as you."

The professor wheeled around the corner to Logan's side. "Hello, Mr. Stryker," she greeted coldly.

"Stryker," Logan repeated, pausing, trying to remember… "Who are you?"

The man sneered at Charlotte but chuckled to Wolverine. "You don't remember?" he asked, eyes glinting in the shadows cast by the helmet on his head.

Before anymore could be said, ice crept up the walls and coalesced into a beautiful, thick sheet of ice—a wall between them and Stryker.

Bobby, Rogue, and John had come back for them.

"No!" Logan exclaimed, cut off from his answers.

"Logan, Professor, come on!" Rogue called. "Logan!"

"Go!" he called over his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

Rogue shook her head. "But we won't."

Reluctantly, he turned and hurried away as Stryker embedded an explosive into the ice. Charlotte followed them to the end of the hall. "Go!" she encouraged and mentally nudged them to keep going, not to notice that she had stopped at the end of the hall. They went running and the ice exploded before her, shards flying everywhere, but she was far enough away that it left her untouched.

The men surged forward, surrounding her and pointing guns at her. Charlotte rolled her eyes and folded her hands in her lap patiently as Stryker approached.

This was the best chance the children had—if Stryker captured her, he wouldn't be as inclined to pursue the others. He'd have accomplished his goal. This was best...

He gave a condescending smirk. "Sorry, my dear," he spat and shoved a needle of tranquilizer into her neck.

Her last thought was a fuzzy hope that she'd given them enough time.


	28. Book 4: Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**_"A warning to the prophet,  
The liar, the honest,  
This is war."_**

**~ "This is War", 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

She woke in a very different place, still in her wheelchair, but there was a strange metallic device on her head. The telepath opened her eyes to find Stryker there, watching her.

"William," Charlotte greeted hoarsely.

"Please, Ms. Xavier, don't get up," he said with a smirk. Charlotte reached for his mind but instead gave a gasp of pain as it shot through her head: an instant migraine that thundered through her skull. Stryker's smirk grew. "I call it my neural inhibitor. It keeps you out of here." He tapped his forehead.

She glanced down to find her wrists strapped down to the armrests of her wheelchair. Her lips thinned and she looked back to her captor. To her surprise, she spotted a familiar pair of glasses in his hands. "What have you done with Scott?"

He stood and walked to the door. "Don't worry, I'm just giving him a little…re-education," he turned back to her. "Of course, you know all about that, don't you?"

"William, you wanted me to _cure _your son, but mutation isn't a disease."

"_You're lying_!" the embittered man shouted suddenly. "You were more afraid of him than I was. You know, just one year after Jason returned from your school, my wife… You see, he resented us—he blamed us for his condition, so he would _toy_ with our minds, projecting visions and scenarios into our brains. Well, my wife, in the end…she took a power drill to her left temple in an attempt to…_bore_ the images out. My boy," he said bitterly, "The great illusionist."

Stryker smiled at her cruelly. "But you know all about raising mutant children, don't you? I'm curious: were little Wanda and Pietro Lehnsherr problematic children?"

She said nothing in reply. Charlotte looked to his assistant, who seemed to suddenly come from a trance, but Stryker noticed. He went to her side and pulled her head down to put several drops of caustic liquid on her neck.

"For someone who hates mutants, you certainly keep strange company."

He smiled at Charlotte, smug. "Oh, they serve their purpose," he replied with a sinister tone. "As long as they can be controlled."

The professor realized, horrified, that it had to be some kind of brainwashing or mind control serum. And if he could control mutants… "You arranged the attack on the President," she concluded.

"And you didn't even have to read my mind," Stryker said in false pride. "I'm impressed. I guess there's more to you than just reading minds."

She rolled her eyes. "You _do_ realize I have three doctorates and am a leading expert on genetics and mutation, correct?"

He ignored her comment and came to loom over her. "You know, I've been working with mutants nearly as long as you have, Ms Xavier, but the most frustrating thing I've learned is that nobody even knows how many exist or how to find them…except _you_."

Icy fear settled in her stomach.

"Unfortunately, this little potion won't work on you, will it?" he chuckled darkly. "You're much too powerful for that. Instead, we'll go right to the source.

"Allow me to introduce Mutant One-Four-Three."

His employees brought in a sickly, vacant man in a wheelchair and dressed in a hospital gown.

"The fluids secreted by his brain act as a mind controlling agent," Stryker explained. "But that's only where it begins."

She inhaled sharply. "_Scheiße_," she murmured in horror. "Oh my God, William—_this is your son!_ What have you done—"

"_No_, Charlotte," he snapped. "My son is dead. Just like the rest of you."

* * *

Erik was pacing.

He worried but knew it was out of his hands for now. He could only hope that Stryker's men would fail and Charlotte and her children could escape in time. If not, he prayed that Stryker's serum wouldn't work on her.

For the first time in many years, he gave a prayer, fearful for Charlotte, and prayed that either she escaped or Mystique would succeed in breaking him out soon.

His thoughts were disrupted by Lorio, who came in with his lunch. "Have a good sleep, Lehnsherr?" the guard asked.

Erik's lips curled into a smile. It seemed that Mystique had indeed implemented her plan… "There's something different about you, Mr. Lorio," he noticed lightly.

He nodded. "Yeah, I was having a good day."

"No," Erik replied. "It's not that…"

The guard watched him stand. "Sit down," he said apprehensively.

Still, the magnetokinetic smiled. "No."

"Sit your ass down," Lorio snapped. Erik raised his hand and was pleased to see him rise into the air as well. "What are you doing—" the guard gasped.

"Ah, there it is," he murmured to himself and tutted to the guard. "Too much iron in your blood," he said and _pulled._

The iron left the guard's body in a red-tinted burst of particles before they condensed above his palm into little globules while Lorio slumped over to the floor heavily.

"Mr. Lorio, never trust a beautiful woman," he chastised with a smirk. "Especially not one who's interested in me." He sent the little iron balls shattering through the glass of the door, even as the little tube-like exit retracted from his cell.

Flattening one of the globules into a wide disk, he levitated across the void to freedom.

Now, to find Mystique. Then, to find Stryker and, hopefully, Charlotte.


	29. Book 4: Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**_"…To the right,  
To the left,  
We will fight to the death  
To the edge of the earth  
It's a brave new world  
From the last to the first…"_**

**~ "This is War", 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

She fought the delusions. It was almost like a psychic battle, but they aren't on an even playing field with abilities—not their skill level, but rather their capabilities.

Charlotte recognized the first illusion because she had not stood in more than forty years and the last time was on a beach in Cuba beside Erik, not in her office.

After that, he wormed his way in and took root.

He stole the ability to distinguish between reality and fantasy, making her lose herself in the delusion.

And damn him, he knew her weakness. He knew how protective she was of children—especially those who alone or unable to protect themselves.

* * *

Erik watched as the X-Men's jet narrowly avoided the missiles until they didn't. He could sense the hole blown into the roof of the jet and mended it swiftly—even as the jet plummeted.

He directed it toward him and lowered it to the ground.

"When will these people learn how to fly?" he muttered to Mystique.

And so they found themselves in an alliance with the X-Men and discussed what they knew with the Wolverine, Dr. Grey, Storm, and the twins.

"…His name is Colonel William Stryker," Erik told them, "and he invaded your mansion for one purpose: he wanted Cerebro or enough of it to build one of his own."

"That doesn't make any sense," Dr. Grey replied. "Stryker would need the Professor to operate it."

"That, I fear, is the only reason my old friend is still alive." Erik closed his eyes in regret.

Wanda closed her eyes and bowed her head wordlessly. Beside her, Pietro laid a hand on her shoulder sadly.

"Oh my God," Storm murmured as her and Jean's eyes met in realization.

The Wolverine was clueless. As usual. "What're you all so afraid of?"

Erik sighed but explained. "When Cerebro is working, Charlotte's mind is connected to every living person on the planet. If she were forced to concentrate hard enough on a particular group, let's say mutants for example, she could kill us all." His voice hardened, trying to convey the danger of the situation, and added softer, "Not to mention that the effort of it could very will kill Charlotte too."

"Wait a second," Storm said sharply. "How would Stryker even know where to find Cerebro in the first place?"

"Because he told Stryker."

The voice cut through the conversation.

Magneto grimaced. "Emma, Cordelia." he greeted coolly. "Good to see you could make it."

Logan eyed the newcomers warily. "Who're your friends, Magneto? And what does she mean that you told Stryker?"

"Friend is a very loose and ill-fitting word," the blond woman replied. "Emma Frost. I'm an…_acquaintance_ of both Magneto here and the Professor. I heard the trouble with Stryker and we came to offer our assistance."

The other, slightly darker blond woman added, "I'm Cordelia Frost—her sister and a former student of the Professor's."

"So, you both just came rushing to offer to help us?" Scott said warily, remembering the sisters' brief years at the Xavier school. "How did you even hear about this?"

Cordelia chuckled. "It's all over the news, though the details were muddled. But we can recognize the Westchester estate well enough."

"How'd you know he told Stryker?" Jean asked Emma.

"Because he is constantly wallowing in his guilt and fury about it in his mind," the blond replied. "I'm a telepath like you and the Professor."

Erik glared at her. "_Why_ are you here, Emma?"

"I owe the Professor a debt," the telepath replied calmly. "You know that. Stryker escaped us all those years ago. He won't be this time. Now, why don't you explain why you told him?"

"_Yes_," Pietro bit out. "Do tell. _Why?_ Why would you do that to her? Why—"

"Pietro," Wanda said quietly to her brother. "Getting angry at him won't help her now. Calm down and give him time to explain."

Logan nodded. "Calm down, hot shot. Don't kill him before he can explain. After he does, though, I'm kinda curious why you constantly look like you want to kill Magneto."

Wanda looked to him with sharp eyes. "She didn't tell you, did she?" the auburn-haired mutant asked vaguely.

"Seeing as I don't have a damn clue what you're talking about, I'm going to say: no, she didn't," the amnesiac replied.

With a sigh, she explained, "The Professor is our mother, Logan."

The Wolverine's eyes widened. "Wait—she's…what? Are you fucking with me?"

"She's telling the truth," Jean told him. "Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, they're the Professor's little-known twin children."

Logan stared at the two for a moment before repeating, "Maximoff?"

They exchanged a long glance. Pietro shrugged. Wanda hesitated, reluctant to speak.

To their right came a long-suffering sigh. "They're mine," Erik said, impatient with their secrets. At the metal-infused mutant's confused look, the magnetokinetic rolled his eyes. "They are my children, Logan. Do I need to put this in simpler terms for you?" he added, condescending.

"Wait—so, you and the Professor—?" he stared, speechless in shock. "You two…?"

Erik replied sharply, "That was implied, yes."

"Why Maximoff?" Emma asked idly. "I always wondered…"

"One of my old aliases—Magnus Maximoff," he replied impatiently. "We agreed it would be better for people not to know their father is the wanted mutant terrorist Magneto. Safer. Considered they might then be in danger from both her enemies and, more importantly, my own. Can we move on, now?"

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "Why don't you share about you telling Stryker about Cerebro?"

The white-haired mutant sighed. "I was there from Cerebro's very beginnings, remember? I know how it was built, how it works. Mr. Stryker has…powerful methods of persuasion…even against me—even against a mutant as powerful as Charlotte."

The anger was plain to see on Jean Grey's face but she focused. "So who is this Stryker, anyway?"

"He's a military scientist," Erik replied, eying Wolverine briefly. "He's spent his whole life trying to _solve _the mutant _problem_. If you want a more intimate perspective, why don't you ask Wolverine?" Logan looked as clueless as the rest. "You don't remember, do you? William Stryker, the only other man I know who can manipulate adamantium—the metal on your bones. It carries his signature."

"But the Professor—"

"The professor trusted you were smart enough to discover it on your own," he sneered. "She gives you more credit than I do."

"Why do you need us?" the white-haired woman asked suspiciously.

"Mystique has discovered plans of a base that Stryker's been working out of for decades," Erik replied. "We know that's where he's building the second Cerebro, _but_ we don't know where this base is. And I believe one of you might."

Wolverine shook his head. "The Professor already tried—"

"Once again," he replied sharply, "You think it's all about you." Erik looked up, smirking. The others followed his gaze.

Nightcrawler clung to a branch and said nervously, "Oh, hello…"

* * *

As it turned out, he was right.


	30. Book 4: Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**_"To the right, to the left  
We will fight to the death  
To the Edge of the Earth."_**

**~ "This is War," 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

After Emma had drawn the location of Stryker's base from Kurt Wagner's willing mind, they settled in for the night. Most of them, anyways.

Erik was instead on the X-Men's jet, tinkering and fixing the damage from the missile. Jean Grey had briefly checked on him, asking if he needed any assistance, but left once he declined her offer. Mystique had left in favor of talking with her long-abandoned son. (Neither of them had been very good parents, he would admit openly, but at least _he_ hadn't left the twins to be raised in a circus.)

Shortly thereafter, Emma Frost decided to bother him as he worked. For a moment, she only observed him silently before laughing to herself.

"If you're going to be here while I work, either tell me what you want or leave," he growled.

The blond woman smirked widely. "You've changed, Magneto," she idly observed.

He snorted. "I've gotten old," he replied shortly. "You, on the other hand, seem unchanged completely."

"Is that a compliment, Mags?" she laughed with a smirk. "From you, I think that is."

"Take it however you wish as long as it gets you to leave."

"Oh, don't be like that," she tutted and smiled at him with a very _particula_r smile. "We're not enemies, after all. There was a time we were very close, if you remember. It was a good time."

Erik glared at the telepath, glad again for his helmet. "We were never that close, Frost," he replied shortly. "Not as _close_ as you and Shaw were, once upon a time."

The blond sighed. "Is that it? You think I'm only Shaw's sloppy seconds?"

"I'm not interested," he replied crossly. "You should stop insinuating and offering."

"You weren't interested. Ever. That's a blow to a woman's vanity," she mused, then grinned widely. "You're still hung up about the dear Professor, then?" He said nothing. "That's a yes, then. I had wondered, you know. I thought you might be doing this purely because of your concerns for mutantkind, but I should have known your interests in this were more…selfish."

"You enjoy the sound of your own voice, don't you, Emma?" he asked in irritation. "I don't think my motivation is any of your business. Nor is my relationship with Charlotte."

"Charlotte?" she repeated with a smile. "Hm. Still in love with her, aren't you? Oh, come on. Who'm I going to tell? I kept your secrets when I was with the Brotherhood; I still keep them."

He sighed. "If I answer you, will you leave me to my thoughts in peace?"

"Yes. So, _are_ you still in love with her?"

The magnetokinetic glared for a long moment before replying. "Yes, I am," he replied softly.

Emma smirked. "Not so difficult, now was it, Mags? I'm leaving, don't bother getting all fussy. Your children want a word with you." She turned and left the jet. A moment later, the twins came, fidgeting awkwardly, on board.

"Eavesdropping again?" he asked lightly and shook his head with an amused smile before growing serious. "How are you holding up?"

They shrugged. "Mum's in the hands of a crazy scientist with a fondness for experimentation," Pietro said angrily (though the anger, Erik was glad to see, was for once not directed at him). "Not too happy, but coping."

"We're alright," Wanda surmised. "Stryker isn't going to be."

Their father smiled darkly. "No. No he isn't," he agreed. "I promise you that."

The silence that followed was a moment of rare familial agreement—united in the face of Charlotte's endangerment. It had been a long time since Erik'd had such a thing with his children.

He sighed and changed topics. "How have you been in the past couple years?" he asked. "I haven't really spoken with you since Azazel was killed."

Wanda gave him a look of sympathy at the mention of Azazel. Despite herself, she had been fond of the teleporter who so readily assisted her parents' continued correspondence and so loyally kept it secret. She also knew that her estranged aunt had been very close with him. (The degree of their relationship was never noticed or known by any of the X-Men, except Charlotte. But then again, Charlotte was the exception to a good deal of rules.)

"Pietro's teaching all of the phys ed classes now," she replied. "Logan's been helping when he's around."

Her brother rolled his eyes at that but told his father, "And Wanda's finished her degree."

"Oh? Congratulations," Erik replied with a smile. The last he'd heard of it, she had only just started working on a master's degree in British literature.

The redhead smiled brightly. "I'm going to start on my doctorate once things…settle."

Erik chuckled. "That may take an unfortunate while," he replied. Pietro cracked a grin too.

Wanda smiled before hesitating. "You and Miss Frost have an…interesting relationship," she observed.

"She was in the Brotherhood for some years before her sister was found, captured for experimentation by Stryker," Erik explained. "At that point, they went to your mother's school. It was several months before you were born. They only remained for a few years, I think. Emma Frost had worked with the man who killed my mother before she joined me. She's a very…amorous woman. I was never interested and that always nettled her."

Wanda gave him a long look, far too similar to her mother's for Erik's comfort. "Because of Mum."

He sighed. "I've never been unfaithful to your mother, even though our relationship is…unusual. If that was what you were asking."

"You still love her."

The magnetokinetic looked to his son, leaning against the far wall, avoiding his gaze. "Yes, I've always loved her," he said, though his voice then turned bitter, "No matter what she or you or anyone else thinks."

His daughter was far more perceptive than he remembered. "She doubts it?" Wanda queried uncertainly before reaching her own conclusions. "You argued, didn't you?"

"We said many things in anger," he said quietly. "Things I fear I may not have the chance to take back.

"After I informed her that Stryker had gotten the information out of me. I had no choice in that; he had drugs—powerful drugs that I suspect came from one of his mutational experiments. I had no choice. Charlotte was furious at my betrayal, however unwilling it may have been," he added bitterly. "People think your mother is a forgiving saint, you know. She's not. I'm not blind to her faults, nor is she to mine. She has too much faith."

Pietro shifted curiously. "Too much faith in general or too much faith in you?"

For a moment, he could almost smell Cuba again—the salty air, the sharp gunpowder, the metallic blood. "Both. But mainly in me." The words tasted of regret on his lips.

His daughter reached over and grasped his hand, squeezing it comfortingly.

"We're going to get her back," Pietro said to him. Determination glinted like steel in his eyes. "We are."

Erik nodded. "We must."

He wouldn't be able to live with himself if she died because of him and the last words he'd said to her were in anger. He wouldn't be able to live with that. He wouldn't be able to live without her at all.


	31. Book 4: Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**_"To the right, To the left  
We will fight to the death!  
To the edge of the earth  
It's a brave new world,  
It's a brave new world,_**  
**_It's a brave new world!"_**

**~ "This is War", 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

She heard words that she heard but did not comprehend until much later when she remembered them.

"_Is it time to find to find our friends? All of them? Even Erik Lehnsherr and your children? All of the mutants everywhere? Every one of them?_"

Charlotte could sense Stryker's venom behind them, but she had no option but to listen.

"_Find all the mutants. All of them. Everywhere. Find them all. Good. _

_"Now kill them._"

* * *

He forced Cerebro open, cracked like a nutshell, even as the others were crumpled, screaming in pain from the mental attack. Well, the others who lacked an anti-telepathy defense.

Erik strode in calmly and paused by the sickly, pathetic looking mutant, who stared in mute fear. He smirked and tapped the helmet smugly before the magnetokinetic turned instead to Charlotte, who stared blankly into space. _Still under the mind control, then_.

To interfere with Cerebro while she was still using the device might have devastating consequences on Charlotte and all the minds she was connected to; Erik would have to find another method to break her from the trance. And he did not have much time before all the mutants were killed.

He went to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder warily. She gave no indication of being aware of his presence. Shaking her shoulder yielding no results. Erik laid a hand on her cheek, calling her name, trying all he could to bring her back to herself.

Nothing worked. Her mind was too firmly entrenched in Jason's control.

Magneto turned Jason Stryker, who was still staring in fear, unable to do anything. "You _will_ release her," he threatened. "Or I will kill you, Jason. And I promise it won't be pleasant."

He gave no verbal or visible response. For a moment, Cerebro was silent, interrupted by distant screams of the mutants outside. There was no response, no indication he would comply.

So Erik reached out and, taking a deep breath, _pulled_.

It wasn't quite like the security guard Lorio. He'd been purposefully imbued with extra iron by Mystique. But the human body had just enough iron in it for him to use when he focused.

For a moment, the red mist hung in the air before the blood fell and the iron gathered in his palm. Jason Stryker slumped in the wheelchair—thin and lifeless like a ragdoll. _Better than this lobotomized existence_, Erik thought grimly.

There was a soft inhalation behind him. "Erik?"

He spun to see her ripping the helmet from her head. "Charlotte, _Gott sei Dank_," he breathed as he knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her in relief. "Are you alright?"

"I—you came for me," she murmured.

Erik smiled tightly to her. "Of course I did, Liebling. When will you realize—_I can't live in a world without you_." She returned his embrace fiercely before he straightened and she finally glanced around her.

The professor paled as she looked around Cerebro in horror. "What did I do?" gasped the telepath. "What—" She was interrupted by a rumble around them.

"Everyone should be fine," he reassured her, putting a calming hand to her cheek as he spoke. "We must leave now. I fear the pipe system was damaged; I don't think the dam will be holding for much longer." Indeed, the room trembled around them.

Erik stood, but she caught his arm. "Thank you," she whispered. "And—I'm sorry, so very sorry."

"Your thanks is never needed and your apology is superfluous," he replied gently as he bent to press a kiss to her cheek. The magnetokinetic pushed her wheelchair toward Cerebro's exit.

"Erik—" she murmured when she saw Jason Stryker.

He shook his head. "Not the time, Liebling. You weren't responding to anything and that was my only choice."

Outside, they were greeted by the motley crew anxiously.

"The dam's going to burst," Emma Frost said immediately. "We need to leave. Now."

Jean nodded. "The spillway," she suggested as the corridor trembled violently around them. The floor cracked and the walls shook.

"Now," agreed Storm.

Quickly, Erik reached for Charlotte. "This will be faster," he said, scooping her up from the wheelchair. She frowned but gave no reply as they began running.

Pietro came to them and put one of his mother's arms over his shoulders. "I can help," he offered.

The magnetokinetic nodded to his son and they shared her weight between them, while Wanda hovered anxiously behind them, as they all hurried to safety.

* * *

Shortly after Wolverine joined their group, just before they reached the surface, Erik paused. "Go on without me," he told them as he handed Charlotte over to Pietro and Kurt Wagner.

"What?" Charlotte exclaimed. "You aren't—"

"I'm not leaving until I know William Stryker is dead," he said darkly. "Not after this." Erik turned to his red-headed, blue-skinned ally. "Mystique?" She nodded.

The professor pursed her lips. "Be safe, for God's sake," she told him firmly.

He nodded and left with Mystique at his heels.

* * *

"Mr. Stryker," he greeted smugly.

It seemed the Wolverine had already found the scientist, judging by the puncture wounds. Stryker was chained to one of the landing gears on the jet.

"Funny we keep running into each other. Mark my words: it'll never happen again."

Erik smiled and tightened the chains, locking them firmly. "That is for using me for information."

He raised his hand, unable to resist, and tugged. Stryker's blood was unfortunately (for him) high in iron, making it even more painful. But Erik had been sure not to immediately kill him as he had done to Jason and Lorio.

"That is for taking and hurting the woman I love," he snarled and turned, leaving the man, bleeding, in pain, slowly dying. But he would not die quick enough to escape drowning.

He glanced at the dam, cracked and preparing to burst any moment, and knew neither he nor Charlotte would ever be in danger because of this mad man again.

The thought was more comforting than he expected.


	32. Book 4: Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**_"…The fight is done  
The war is won  
Lift your hands  
Towards the sun, Towards the sun  
Towards the sun, Towards the sun  
The war is won."_**

**~ "This is War", 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

The jet appeared suddenly, flying unsteadily to them and landing through what looked like the Emergency Landing Mode, as they emerged from the base.

"I will take her," the blue teleporter said to Pietro before hugging Charlotte tightly and—

They appeared on the jet, which Rogue was piloting shakily. Carefully, Kurt set her down in a seat. "Thank you, my friend," she said as the others ran on board.

After a moment of focusing her mind, she turned to Scott, who had taken the pilot seat. "Scott, we need to get to Washington. I fear this has gone beyond Alkali Lake."

Finally, she focused enough to reach out to the others as they all seated and strapped themselves in.

"What's wrong?" Wolverine asked roughly.

Scott replied, "The vertical thrusters are offline."

"So fix it," he snapped.

Cyclops didn't turn to look to him. "I'm trying."

"Hey, has anyone seen John?" Rogue asked loudly. Charlotte paused to scan the area and found him… Her eyes closed when she found him. Jean replied before she did. "He's with Magneto."

Charlotte, Jean, and Emma stiffened suddenly when the youngest of the three felt the dam burst with her telekinesis. The professor listened as Jean formed a plan and left the jet.

To her right, Emma Frost glanced to her. _Is she really doing this?_

_Yes, _the professor replied sorrowfully. Emma said nothing and turned away.

"Jean?" Scott asked aloud, alerting everyone to her absence.

Logan spun. "Where's Jean?"

"She's outside," Charlotte whispered sorrowfully and reached to Jean's mind.

_I'm not going to let you stop me_, her pupil told her stubbornly.

Fear and premature grief gripped the professor's heart. _I won't stop you. But I will stay with you._

She watched through Jean's eyes as the water from the damn surged forward.

From her own mind, she felt Stryker drown under the wave that hit him… (_Good_, a small, vindictive portion of her mind whispered in satisfaction.)

_I have faith in you, Jean,_ Charlotte told her as Jean lifted the jet and held back the water. _Would you like to say goodbye?_ She asked gently.

The telekinetic nodded.

"_I know what I'm doing; it's the only way._"

Both Scott and Logan turned in shock to face the professor, but Scott knelt beside her, audibly choked with tears. "Alright, Jean, listen to me—don't do this."

"_Goodbye_."

_I'm sorry, Professor_, she whispered.

Charlotte shook her head against the tears. _Don't apologize, Jean. You have always been and will always be one of my greatest students and children. And I will always love you as one of my own._

_Goodbye_… The last thought was a whisper as the water swallowed Jean.

She hear Scott screaming but forced herself to build a barrier as the jet filled with everyone's grief—Scott, Logan, Storm, the twins, the children. She couldn't handle it all and forced a wall up.

Beside her, Kurt bowed his head. "_The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake_," he whispered. "_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil…_"

For the first time in years, Charlotte Xavier bowed her head and allowed herself to cry.


	33. Book 4: Chapter 9

**Book 4: Epilogue**

_**"Lift your hands  
Towards the sun, Towards the sun  
Towards the sun, Towards the sun  
The war is won."**_

**~ "This is War", 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

"My fellow Americans, in this time of adversity, we are being offered a moment, a moment to recognize a growing threat within our own population and take a unique role in the shape of human events…"

The lights flickered as thunder rumbled.

"Are we still live? Did we lose the feed?"

No one answered him, all frozen by Charlotte. Kurt teleported them in beautifully just as the room went completely dark.

The President jumped when lightning illuminated their sudden appearance.

"Good morning, Mr. President," she said calmly, pushed her wheelchair forward slightly. "Please, don't be alarmed. They aren't going to harm anyone."

He glanced around the room at them all. "Who are you people?"

"We are mutants," she replied simply. "My name is Professor Charlotte Xavier. Please sit down."

He frowned. "I'd rather stand."

The telepath glanced over her shoulder. "Pietro?" she motioned. The boy stepped forward and slid the files across his desk to him. "These files were taken from the private offices of William Stryker."

He glanced down at them; his eyebrows furrowed and she felt his sudden confusion. "How did you get this?" he demanded.

Charlotte smiled slightly. "Well, let's just say I know a little girl who can walk through walls."

Reluctantly, he sat and examined the papers more. "I've never seen this information."

"I know."

"Then you also I know I don't respond well to threats."

She chuckled. "Yes, surprisingly, this is not a threat. This is an opportunity. There are forces in this world both mutant and human alike who believe a war is coming. You will see from those files that some have already tried to start one. And there have been casualties…losses on both sides.

"Mr. President," she leaned forward, "What you are about to tell the world is true. This _is_ a moment—a moment to repeat the mistakes of the past—" She brought the Mutant Registration Act and the Liberty Island incident to his mind subtly—"or to work together for a better future."

She withdrew a card from her pocket and laid it on his desk. He picked it up and she heard him reading it in his mind: _Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Headmistress: Professor Charlotte Xavier, ., Ph. D._

"We're here to stay, Mr. President," she informed him. "The next move is yours."

From behind her, Logan added, "We'll be watching."

* * *

**_"…I do believe in the light  
Raise your hands into the sky  
The fight is done, the war is won  
Lift your hands toward the sun  
Toward the sun, toward the sun,  
Toward the sun,  
The war is won."_**

**~ "This is War", 30 Second to Mars**


	34. Book 5: Chapter 1

**Book 5: **

**Nothing**

* * *

**_ "I believe in nothing,  
Not the end and not the start.  
I believe in nothing,  
Not the earth and not the stars.  
I believe in nothing,  
Not the day and not the dark.  
I believe in nothing,  
But the beating of our hearts…"_**

**~ "100 Suns", 30 Seconds to Mars**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**_Twenty Years Ago_**

_She had asked Erik in a letter if he was willing to assist her in a sensitive matter. He had offered his assistance cautiously._

_He had come with her here, though he was skeptical. "I still don't know why I'm here, Charlotte," he said as they got out of the car. _

_Charlotte stood and stretched. "Well, I needed someone to drive the car, didn't I?"she said, grinning. "Besides. I may be projecting myself here as capable of walking, but I can't physically drive." Not when she was, in reality, physically in her office at the moment._

_He inspected her for any giveaways that the Charlotte Xavier he saw beside him was an illusion. Curious, he snatched at her hand and raised an eyebrow when he could not feel her hand. She tapped her temple. "You forget, love."_

_"Can't you just make them say yes?" he asked as they walked toward the house. _

_She shrugged. "That is not my way. I would expect you of all people to understand my feelings on the misuse of powers."_

_He unlocked the gate. "Power corrupts and all that, yes, I know," he said, familiar with the argument. "When are you going to stop lecturing me?"_

_"When you start listening," she replied with an easy smile. "And I would not take a parents' choice away when it came to their children. Imagine if we were them and someone forced us to agree to send the twins to some strange, distant school."_

_"I'd like to see them try," he muttered. She gave him a measured look._

_He sighed, conceding defeat on the matter. _

_"And you're here because I need you," she added._

_Erik looked to her curiously. "And why not one of the chil—one of the others? Why me?"_

_"They are…otherwise busy today," she replied. "And I was glad of the excuse to see you again, old friend."_

_"How are the twins?" he asked quietly. _

_She smiled. "They are well. Irene is looking after them; she usually does when I'm teaching or busy. They're quite taken with her…but I think she misses Raven."_

_After a moment, he asked her, "You're not going to have to meet every one of your possible students in person, will you?"_

_"No," she replied as Erik knocked on the door. "This one's special."_

* * *

_"It's a beautiful campus," Mrs. Grey remarked. "Don't you think, John?"_

_Her husband nodded. "Yes, the pamphlet is great. But what about her…illness?"_

_"Illness?" Erik repeated immediately. "Do you think your daughter is sick, Mr. Grey?"_

_Charlotte intervened before Erik could ruffle anymore feathers. "Perhaps it would be best if we spoke to Jean ourselves," she suggested. "Alone."_

_Mrs. Grey nodded, "Yes, of course. _Jean_! Can you come down, dear?" she called upstairs. _

_A moment later, the young girl entered the room as her parents left. She stared at Charlotte curiously…_

It's rude, you know, to read our thoughts without our permission_, she gently thought to the girl, whose eyebrows furrowed. _

_"Did you think you were the only one of your kind, Jean?" Erik asked curiously._

_"We are mutants, Jean," the professor explained. "We are like you."_

_Her expression was skeptical and slightly arrogant. "Really? I doubt that," she remarked and looked out the window. _

_Following her gaze, the two adults watched as the cars on the street all rose into the air, levitating steadily._

_Erik grinned. "Oh, Charlotte, I like this one!" he said cheerfully. _

_"You have more power than you can imagine, Jean," the professor told the girl. "The question is, will you control that power—" Outside, the cars settled loudly back on the ground. "—or let it control you?"_

* * *

**_Present Day_**

"When an individual attains great power, the use or misuse of that power is everything. Will it be for the greater good or will it be used for personal or destructive ends? Now this is a question we must all ask ourselves. Why?" Charlotte Xavier asked her Mutant Ethics class. "Because we are mutants.

"For psychics, this presents a particular problem. When is it acceptable to use our power and when do we cross that invisible line that turns us into tyrants over our fellow men."

"But Einstein said that ethics are an exclusive human concern without any superhuman authority behind it," Kitty pointed out.

"But Einstein wasn't a mutant," she pointed out and added with a small smile, "As far as we know."

Students chuckled.

"Now, this case study was sent to me by a colleague, Doctor Moira McTaggert. Jones?" she asked.

The student in question blinked and turned on the television.

Moira was on the screen before a patient in a hospital bed. "_The man you see behind me was born with no higher level brain functions. His organs and nervous system work but he has no consciousness to speak of._"

The professor paused the screen. "Now, what if we were to transfer the consciousness of one person—say, a father of four with terminal cancer," she theorized, "Into the body of this man. How are we to decide what falls within the within the range of ethical behavior and what—"

She froze, staring out the window at the suddenly stormy skies.

"Professor?" James prompted, concerned.

"We'll continue this tomorrow," she said with a smile. "Class dismissed."

* * *

"The forecast called for sunny skies," Charlotte remarked, startling Storm.

"Oh, sorry," she apologized and cleared the clouds.

The telepath came closer. "I don't have to be psychic to know something is bothering you, Storm."

As they returned to the school building, she sighed. "I don't understand. Magneto's a fugitive, we have a mutant in the Cabinet, a President who understands us—why are we still fighting?"

"We aren't fighting but we still have enemies out there," Charlotte replied. "And I must protect my students, you know that."

"Yes, but we can't be students forever."

The telepath laughed. "Storm, I haven't thought of you as my student in years," she replied. "In fact, I thought that perhaps you might take my place someday."

Storm halted in her tracks, staring in surprise. "What about Wanda? I thought she would…"

Charlotte chuckled. "Wanda adores the children, but she knows she would not enjoy being headmistress. She is content with teaching Literature."

"Miss Frost—"

She shook her head. "She's busy running Frost International with her sister. Though I think we may call upon her if we were ever in dire need of their help again."

"But, Scott's—"

"Scott's a changed man," she whispered sadly. "He took Jean's death so hard. And yes, things have gotten better, but you of all people know how fast the weather can change."

"There's something you're not telling us," her former student inferred anxiously.

Charlotte sighed and led Storm to her office, where an old friend waited, chatting amicably with the twins.

"Hank?" she said with delight in her tone. The blue-haired mutant grinned. "Ororo! Charlotte!" he greeted as Storm hugged him.

"I love what you've done with your hair!" she said.

He chuckled. "I love what you've done with yours." Hank looked to his old teacher. "Charlotte, thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Henry, you are always welcome here," she replied, giving him a brief hug. "You're a part of this place."

"I have news," he said, getting straight to business.

She straightened in her chair. "Erik?" Both of the twins stiffened.

"No," he shook his head. "But we are making some progress on that front. Mystique was recently apprehended…"

"Who's the furball?"

She sighed in exasperation. Logan, charming as ever.

"Hank McCoy, Secretary of Mutant Affairs," he introduced himself politely.

Logan nodded. "Right, right, the Secretary. I like the suit."

The professor rubbed her forehead. "Hank, this is Logan—"

He nodded. "Wolverine, yes. I hear you're quite an animal." Charlotte paused; he was so very different compared to his nervous, awkward teenage self from so many years ago.

Logan was unimpressed. "Look who's talking."

Wanda ignored their bicker. "Magneto's going to come get Mystique," she said. "Is that why you're here, Uncle Hank?"

Hank shook his head. "Magneto's not the problem. At least, not our most pressing one." He sighed. His mind was full of trepidation. "A major pharmaceutical company has developed a mutant antibody, a way to suppress the mutant X gene."

"Suppress?" Charlotte's son repeated.

"Permanently," Hank added grimly. "They're calling it a cure."

Unease filled the room.

Storm, on the other hand, was indignant. "Well that's ridiculous!" she said. "You can't _cure_ being a mutant!"

"Well, scientifically speaking—"

"—We're not a disease!" she continued over Hank.

Charlotte paused in thought. "Storm," she said, quieting her.

"They're announcing it now."


	35. Book 5: Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"…The mass of water that collapsed on Jean should have killed her," Charlotte said quietly. "The only explanation I can think of is that her powers wrapped her in a cocoon of telekinetic energy."

"Is she going to be okay?" Logan asked.

"Jean Grey is the only Class Five mutant I've ever encountered," the telepath explained, lying only slightly. "Her powers are practically limitless. Her mutation is linked to the subconscious part of her mind and therein lies the danger. When she was a girl, I created a series of psychic barriers to isolate her powers from her conscious mind and as a result, Jean developed a dual personality."

Logan stared at the professor in confusion. "What?"

Charlotte sighed. "The conscious Jean in control and the dormant side…a personality that in our sessions came to call itself the Phoenix—a purely instinctual creature, all joy and desire and rage."

"She knew all this?" Logan asked.

The telepath sighed. "It's unclear how much she knew. Far more critical is whether the woman in front of us is the Jean Grey we know or the Phoenix, furiously struggling to be free."

Logan eyed her. "She looks pretty peaceful to me."

"Because I'm keeping her that way. I am trying to restore the psychic blocks and cage the beast again."

"What have you done to her?" Logan demanded, suspicion coiling in him like a rattlesnake, ready to bite.

"Logan, you have to understand—"

"You're talking about a person's mind here—Jean!"

"She has to be _controlled_," she stressed.

Logan stared at her furiously. "Controlled?" he repeated. "You know, sometimes when you cage the beast, it gets angry."

"You have no idea," Charlotte said darkly. "You have no idea of what she's capable."

"No, Professor," Logan snapped. "I had no idea what _you _were capable of."

"You still have no idea, Logan." Her face hardened. "I had a choice to make and I chose the lesser evil," she replied firmly.

"Well it sounds to me like Jean had no choice at all," he snapped.

Anger rose in her stomach but she forced it down. Her voice was coldly polite when she spoke. "I don't have to explain myself. Least of all to you."

* * *

There was a knock on her office door, interrupting the silence.

She paused. "Come in, Hank," she called as she laid down the pen and the blue-haired mutant entered. "What can I do for you? Is something wrong?"

Hank shook his head. "Nothing, nothing. I just wanted to stop to talk with you before I left. Personal, rather than business."

"Oh. Have a seat then, please. How are you? Would you like anything to drink? Tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you, Professor. I'm quite alright, thank you," he smiled. "The twins have grown these past few years."

Charlotte's face softened. "Yes. They've matured into wonderful, capable adults and excellent teachers. They are far more than I ever dared hope for."

"I had noticed the children seemed particularly taken with Wanda," Hank chuckled. "And the older boys seem to get along with Pietro famously."

The telepath's expression was proud as she glanced down at a framed photo on her desk—Hank assumed it to be of the twins—but her smile faltered when her gaze fell to the old bullet beside it.

"Do you still maintain your correspondence with Mag—_Erik_?" he asked, unable to help his curiosity.

Her gaze fell. "No, not for a few years—since Azazel was killed. I only spoke to him last when he and Raven assisted the X-Men in breaking me out of Alkali Lake."

"Ah, yes. I heard about that..." The woman's old student studied her. "You still love him, don't you, Professor?"

"Oh, Hank," she sighed sadly. "Did you ever think any different?"

* * *

Later that evening, Wanda pounded on Charlotte's office door.

"Come in," she called curiously.

The woman rushed in. "Mum, someone just knocked on the front door of the mansion. She just asked for you, refused to say anything else."

"Alright, where is she?" the telepath asked.

"I left her in the front foyer," Storm replied as they went into the elevator.

A fair woman with chin-length black hair and desperate amber eyes waited. She wore a too-large sweatshirt and jeans, both of which appeared to be wither stolen or borrowed. "Char?" she asked quietly.

The professor slowed to a sudden stop. "Raven?" she gasped in disbelief. "What—what happened?"

"The cure."

* * *

Ten minutes later found the two sisters on the couch in Charlotte's private quarters, deep in discussion. She had sent Wanda away after making the woman swear her silence on the subject (though she promised to tell her later why her estranged aunt had returned).

"He came to break me out when they were transporting me and a couple other 'high-risk' mutant prisoners," Raven explained. "One of the guards woke up and was about to shoot Erik in the back…I didn't know it was a dart with the cure until I turned human after taking the bullet for him. He just…left me. He said I was no longer one of them and left with the other prisoners."

Her voice was choked with tears. "I hoped that you might—that you would let me stay," she said quietly.

Charlotte hugged her tightly. "Oh, Raven, what have I been telling you since I found you in the kitchen when we were children? This is your home now and it will always be open to you if you wish."

"Even if I'm not—though I'm—"

"Human?" the telepath offered gently. Raven nodded.

She sighed. "Raven, you know I have never cared about that. You are my sister and this is your home. Always."

Slowly, the other woman nodded before her eyes darted to the door curiously. "That was—the girl, that was—?"

"Wanda," she supplied. "My daughter. The eldest."

"She looks like you."

The telepath smiled. "She has all of my intellect and none of my arrogance. She is better than me, really. Wanda looks after her brother far better than I ever did for you."

Raven shook her head. "You always did what you thought was best for me, Charlotte. That's why I came here—because I knew you would always forgive me, no matter how little I deserve it."

Charlotte shook her head. "This is and will always be your home, Raven. You owe me nothing and I only ask of you one thing, but even this is a request...

"What is Erik up to?"


	36. Book 5: Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

"Wait for me here," she ordered them.

Logan's head snapped over to look at her. "What?"

"I need to see Jean alone," she said and turned away from him to see— _Erik_. He smiled to her. "You were right, Charlotte," he said cordially. "This one _is_ special."

"What are you doing here?" Pietro said, edging protectively close to him, as if to place himself in between Erik and his mother and sister.

Erik smirked to his son. "Same as the Professor, here: visiting an old friend."

She glanced at the magnetokinetic in warning. "I don't want trouble here, Erik."

"Nor do I, Liebling" he agreed. "So, shall we go inside?"

They went, together, toward the door. "I came to bring Jean home, love," she warned him. "I don't want you to interfere."

"Just like old times, eh?" he chuckled.

She shook her head. "Jean is not well. She needs help."

Erik sighed. "Funny…you sound just like her parents." He paused and murmured something to his brawny new follower.

"I just want to bring her home, Erik," she said quietly as they went up the sidewalk alone. "The Phoenix already killed Scott—the man she loves. What might she do to someone she cares less for if I do not help calm her and make the Phoenix dormant once more?"

He sighed. "Charlotte, the woman in this house is not the Jean you know. She is dangerous. She will kill you if you provoke her. Which, knowing you, will happen. I would almost prefer bring her with me if only so she would not be near you."

"And if she can help the Brotherhood, well, that's an advantage as well?" Charlotte replied, not quite bitter. Merely resigned.

The magnetokinetic inclined his head but did not deny it.

At the front door, Erik unlocked the door and they both went in silently until they found the redhead in the sitting room.

"I knew you'd come in," she said lowly.

Charlotte nodded. "Of course. I've come to bring you home."

"I have no home."

"Yes, you do," the professor replied. "You have a home and a family."

Erik decided to speak up then. "You know she thinks your power is too great for you to control. She's thought that ever since we came to fetch you from this place, twenty years ago."

"_Erik_," she hissed.

"I don't believe your mind games are going to work anymore, Liebling," he replied and stepped past her.

"Is that how you want to control me?" The Phoenix hissed.

"No," Charlotte replied sincerely. "I want to help you."

She stared at the professor impassively. "Help me," she repeated. "What's wrong with me?"

"Absolutely nothing," Erik cut in.

"_Erik stop!_" she snapped. If he persisted, there was no telling how Jean's volatile dual personality would lash out…

"_No_, Charlotte, not this time." He looked to the Phoenix. "She's always held you back."

Charlotte shook her head. "For your own good, Jean," she said, reaching for the woman's mind subtly…

A lamp behind them was flung abruptly at the wall. "_Stay out of my head_," Phoenix spat, madness in her eyes as other objects rattled. The doors slammed shut loudly behind Charlotte but she did not look back.

"Look at me, Jean," she urged. "I can help you. Look at me."

"Get out of my head!" she said, pushing Charlotte's wheelchair back suddenly.

Erik watched on. "Perhaps you should listen to her, Charlotte," he remarked with genuine concern in his warning tone.

"You must trust me," she pushed on. "You're a danger to everyone around you and yourself! I can help you—"

"I think you want to give her the _cure_," Erik said.

She ignored him. "—Look at what happened to Scott!" the professor said. "You killed the man you love because you can't control your powers!"

"_NO!_" she shrieked. "_Stop it!_" The windows shattered and objects were taking flight around the room, including the sofa. Erik was sent flying back across the room.

"Jean, let me in!" she said over the din. She heard fighting in the other room…Logan hadn't listened. Outside, Storm, Wanda, and Pietro were fighting as well. _She had to focus._

And now it was beginning to hurt, Jean—_Phoenix's_—work until—

She lifted Charlotte from her wheelchair, which flew back in the wind. Erik had been pushed back to the far wall across from Phoenix. His helmet was nearly blown from his head, but he managed to hold on to it with his powers, clutching it in his hand. The feel of his mental presence gave her strength as she fought Phoenix psychically.

"_Charlotte!_" Erik yelled. She could hear him, too. _Don't—mein gott—bitte— Charlotte, stop. You have to get away from her now before—_

But she could still help her—if Jean would let her in, she could—

Her skin began to burn. "No, Jean!" she exclaimed.

Erik's shout of "_Jean!_" had his urgency bleeding into it.

She could feel it, could feel her cells dying under Jean—Phoenix's—powers. _So this is what it feels like…_

His thoughts were loud in her head, a comforting presence that she had long missed. _Charlotte, don't you dare die, don't you _dare_ let her kill you. Don't you dare, Liebling—_

"Don't let it control you," she told Jean calmly before turning to see Logan in the doorway, watching with horrified eyes. "No—" he yelled.

She turned further to meet Erik's gaze with a gentle smile despite the pain ripping through her.

_Stop her, Erik. You must. Don't let my school be attacked, please. Nor the twins._

His thoughts were frantic as he stared at her in fear and premature grief. _Charlotte, I'm the one who is supposed to die first, not you. Don't you dare, Liebling. Not before I—_

_I'm sorry,_ she thought to him gently and sent him the memory of kissing him for the first time, so very long ago. _I'm sorry, mein liebe. You know I love you, I've always loved you, and continue to love you still, Erik…_

"_CHARLOTTE!_" he screamed, reaching for her—


	37. Book 5: Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

"We live in an age of darkness, a world full of fear, hate, and intolerance. But in every age, there are those who fight against it," Storm said solemnly, fighting down the urge to break down and cry. She couldn't. The students and teachers and everyone else were counting on her now, to step up in the Professor's place.

Ororo wasn't sure she'd ever be prepared for that.

Students—current and past, some she hadn't seen in decades—filled the rows. Dr MacTaggert was at the end of the front row (Storm had met her several times before; the former CIA operative had changed careers after the Cuban Missile Crisis, according to the Professor) beside Hank. Scott's older brother Alex was in the back, lingering distantly, looking incredibly worn and aggrieved as he stood near a vaguely familiar redheaded man she _thought_ might be Sean.

Slightly to their left was a small party from some government group that the Professor helped. Ororo only vaguely recognized them. Their boss wore black leather everything and a grim expression that pinched his severe face. An average-looking man and a brunette woman were at his right, looking solemn and saddened, though thoroughly professional. Slightly apart from them was a quintet—a confident-looking man with a neat goatee and an expensive suit, a well-dressed blond man with a military bearing, a guy with a quietly nervous demeanor in a suit that'd seen better days (but he had the look of a scientist that made Storm think he, Hank, and the Professor must have gotten along famously), and a couple that stood close together: the woman redhead and subtly vigilant, the man openly watching the others in attendance with a keen eye.

_SHIELD_, Ororo remembered quickly. That was the name. The Professor had mentioned them several times before.

Kurt Wagner sat in the second row, holding a rosary as he listened. Logan watched distantly, though attentively. Kitty, Bobby, and Rogue sat in the front row beside the twins.

_The twins…_

In the front row, Wanda and Pietro sat. The redhead stared at her mother's grave numbly, not yet completely understanding her mother's passing or not yet wanting to, while Quicksilver glared furiously at the sky, fighting angry tears.

Ororo looked down to the stone marker sadly. She should not be the one to give the Professor her final goodbye, but she seemed to be the only one holding it together and not in shock. Wanda looked shattered and utterly lost; Pietro seemed murderous in his grief. Worse still was the fact that the twins had always been a secret from the world; for their safety, Charlotte had made sure they were little known. _I have too many enemies, Storm, who would jump at the opportunity of using my biological children against me. This is safer for me, the school, and ultimately them if no one easily recognizes them as my blood. Even more so about their father. They would be larger targets than Erik and I combined if certain people were to learn that._

Beside the professor's headstone was a smaller one, slightly weathered from age. _Anya Xavier_, it read simply. There had always been flowers left there, as far back as Ororo could remember. By the professor herself, by various students through the years, and maybe even by Magneto (if Storm suspected correctly); the little Xavier child was never forgotten.

Storm's heart ached for the Professor and her children and students.

"Charlotte Xavier was born to a world divided, a world she tried to heal: a mission she never saw accomplished. It seems the destiny of great men and women to see their goals unfulfilled.

"Charlotte was more than a leader, more than a teacher. She was a friend. She was a mother. When we were afraid, she gave us strength. When we did not know what to do, she gave us guidance. When we had nowhere to go, she gave us a home. And when we were alone, she gave us a family." Her voice cracked loudly.

"She may be gone but her teachings live on in through us: her students. Wherever we may go, we must carry on her vision and that's a vision of a world united."

* * *

Once the rest of the funeral attendees left the graveside, a lone man—weathered, aggrieved face hidden by his hat—stood before the headstone.

He had waited patiently for the twins to leave. The pair were too wrapped up in their grief to notice their father behind them, waiting to see the grave himself.

Not even truly a grave, he thought numbly. A memorial, perhaps, but not a grave. There was nothing left to bury. Nothing remained of her but the wheelchair.

Erik Lehnsherr knelt in the dirt before the gravestone.

_Charlotte Xavier_

_Mother. Teacher. Leader._

Above those words was her profile carved into a metal circle, set into the stone of the marker. It was a good profile of Charlotte—her gentle features, the knowing slant of her eyes, the welcoming quirk of her lips.

Mourners and students had left a small pile of various roses at the foot of the stone beside the small flame that flickered on in the breeze.

The marker itself was in one of Charlotte's favorite gardens (or so it had been so many years ago, before Cuba). It was the same that their daughter was buried in, now beside her mother's headstone. In fact, not far behind was the very spot where she had found that lost memory of his mother…where he had moved the now-gone satellite…where she had told him, "_There is so much more to you than you know_"…where she had first kissed him…

He was certain that was where he had fallen for her, if it wasn't when she had dived into the ocean after him.

And somehow, she had always loved him. After all he had done—the killing, the attacks, the anti-human violence and plots—she had loved him still. After all he had done to her, she had forgiven him: after Cuba, after leaving her, after paralyzing her, after fighting on the opposite side of a war from her, after betraying her, after hurting her, after letting her_ die_ right in front of him…she had always forgiven and loved him despite it. He had always tried to protect her, but he only seemed to end up hurting her instead.

Her words, too fresh, too raw, too painful, echoed in his mind from an argument. "_All you've ever done—all you ever do—is hurt me!_ _It's like every time you touch me…something breaks._" She had said it in anger, but truth rang through her ire.

Erik blinked away the tears.

Reverently, his fingers traced over the letters of her name before he set his sights upon the metal inset in the stone.

When he stood, he studied his work for a moment before brushing his fingers atop the stone. "I've lost you twice now. Once on a beach in Cuba when I shot you and left. And now…" He faltered as his voice cracked.

"You weren't supposed to be the one to die first of the two of us," he said softly. "I was supposed to be the one who died in the ceaseless war…but it's never been that way, has it? Not in Cuba, certainly not now.

"_Verdammt_, Charlotte," he cursed vehemently, nearly falling to his knees in the grass. "You weren't supposed to die at all. Not before our dreams of mutant success were reality, not before our children were grown and starting families of their own…Not in the least before I could actually tell you I loved you," he finished softly.

With a long last look at the stone, he turned and left the garden.

* * *

With the school in a state of mourning, the students were out of class but were all quiet and withdrawn at the lost of their Professor. They seemed preoccupied with their contemplations or tears and, either way, no one seemed to notice the unfamiliar visitor walked through the halls to her office.

Erik supposed he was less noticeable or recognizable without the damn helmet. He hated the thing now, but knew it was safer to wear it.

Years ago, he had asked Charlotte what it was like when she tried to read his mind while he wore it. She'd looked to him sadly, wistfully and replied, "_When you wear that helmet…it's like a brilliant star suddenly gone, vanished into a black hole with only nothingness in its place, only a void where there should be light and warmth_."

It didn't matter now. The only telepath he'd ever cared to allow into his mind was gone.

The wheelchair had been left in the center of the room, for apparent lack of knowing what else to do with it, or so he assumed.

He edged around it and went to her desk. The papers were all in neat order, the books stacked carefully. It was too neatly cleaned, even by Charlotte's standards. She'd suspected it, then—had anticipated not returning.

A pristine envelope laid in the center of the desk. _My Love_, it was addressed in her calligraphic hand. Beside it laid the old bullet he had once prevented from entering her skull. Carefully, he tucked it away in a pocket, where it clinked against the matching crumpled one that he hadn't stopped.

His heart thudded in his old chest but carefully he opened it.

* * *

_Erik, my love,_

_I do not need to be psychic to foresee the conclusion of this war and my place within it. Or rather, my lack of. I am certain of my impending death, but I am not afraid, strangely._

_I have lived a full life: loved a good man and been loved in return, carried out my life's dream of starting a school, and have many wonderful, beautiful children, both my own by blood and by bond. I have raised two beautiful, wonderful children of ours. I only wish we'd had more time together, that we had not been so prideful and stubborn and foolish. _

_Now, if I could go back to that day in Cuba, I know I would not have allowed you to leave. Even if it meant forfeiting our life-long argument about mutants and humans. Looking back, I know I should have and that knowledge burdens me every day. Had we thrown away such petty arguments, I feel we could have had so much more time and happiness together._

_Such ponderings are irrelevant. My mutation does not allow me to undo the past and nor do I wish it to._

_It has been so very many years since I dived into the ocean after an angry, lonely, bitter man. You are not the same man you were, so centered around your hatred for Sebastian Shaw. There is and has always been good in you, I recall telling you. I'll tell you again, lest you have forgotten. No matter what you have done since, I know there is good in you; I have felt it and I have loved you for it. _

_For it remains despite all the pain and horror you have known. You are a good man and I shall forever remember you as such, mein liebe._

_I recall you first used your nickname for me over chess on our cross-country search for our children. I never told you that I looked it up soon afterward, even though you had not let on to any such romantic notions before. _

_I stopped you from admitting to it over our last chess game before Cuba. And we never truly said it after, though we both knew. It hurt too much to admit aloud to each other when we would only part ways once more. If I never do tell you, then… Ich liebe dich, Erik. I love you. I have always loved you since that first night when I dived in after you and first felt your mind. I will always love you. No matter what this war brings us. _

_Always know I have loved you and you have made my life a happy one. I cannot imagine it without you in it. Though I may go to my death very well tomorrow, know that because of you, my life has been made a happy one; there is no tragedy in that, Erik._

_I love you. I'm sorry._

_All my love, _

_Charlotte._

* * *

He was found shortly after he finished reading the letter.

"How dare you!" came the furious yell as soon as the office door slammed shut. "You have _no_ right to come back here, to be at Mum's funeral, to be in here—"

Pietro's tirade halted abruptly as his sister laid a hand on his arm. She glared at the intruder coldly. "Why are you here, Dad?" she asked quietly, guardedly.

Erik looked to them and didn't bother try to hide his red-rimmed eyes and slightly damp cheeks. "I loved her," he said quietly, voice hoarse. "I really did. I always have, always will. It doesn't…it doesn't matter if you believe me or not when I say it now, but it is true. I never wanted her dead, not for a moment. I never intended to see her dead; it was always supposed to be me who died in this infernal war we were both sucked into.

"I have never been the man she deserved to love her or been the father you two deserve. And I regret that. But I won't apologize for doing what I think is best for all mutants. My only regret…my only regret is this."

Slowly, the twins approached him. Wanda knelt beside him, while Pietro watched silently. She laid a small hand on his shoulder. "I believe that you loved her," she said gently. "I know she loved you. She always had; you must know this. She always told us to never blame you for what you do for the mutant cause. And we don't."

Confused, he looked at his two children. He could see Charlotte's determination in their eyes.

"We only ever blamed you for what you did to Mum," she explained.

His hand went to his breast pocket from which he pulled a small, crumpled bullet. "So have I," he replied softly, sorrowfully.

They didn't need to ask which bullet it was.

Eventually, Pietro spoke, "Go, Dad—before people realize there is an unexpected visitor in the school."

Erik nodded and stood. "You both take after your mother far more than I," he observed. "Good. Keep it that way. Now…stay safe. And away from San Francisco. If you go there, you will be in danger. For me—for your mother—stay out of that fight please."

He turned and left the office, with only a letter and a pair of old bullets in his possession. And a heavy, heavy heart that felt paradoxically empty.

* * *

_Charlotte Xavier_

_Mother. Teacher. Leader._

_Mein Liebling._


	38. Book 5: Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**"No matter how badly your heart is broken, the world does not stop for your grief."**  
**~ Unknown**

* * *

"She shouldn't be here with us. Her power is completely unstable," Callisto spat.

Erik shook his head calmly. "Only in the wrong hands."

He didn't want her anywhere near him. Frankly, he wanted to kill her, but knew that was a battle he would not survive and that she could serve a purpose for his cause.

His damned cause, the only thing he had left in the world right now.

"And you trust her?" Pyro asked. "She's one of them."

"So were you once," he admonished.

The boy wasn't deterred. "I stuck with you all the way," he replied arrogantly. "I woulda killed the Professor if you'd given me the chance," he sneered.

Erik halted in his steps and grabbed the boy's shoulder to force Pyro face him before grabbing him by his throat, making him gasp for air.

"Charlotte Xavier did more for mutants than you'll _ever_ know," he told the boy, voice harsh and cold. "My single greatest regret is that she had to die. Be careful how you speak."

He released the boy and stalked away furiously.

* * *

"I know the smell of your adamantium a mile away," he sneered.

"I didn't come here to fight you," the Wolverine spat, immobilized by Erik, who held him in the air.

"Smart boy," he replied.

He, surprisingly, didn't rise to the jab. "I came here for Jean."

If that was true, the boy was stupider than he'd thought. "You think I'm keeping her here against her will?" he asked smugly and pulled him nearer. "She's here because she _wants_ to be."

"You don't know what you're dealing with!"

He straightened. "I know _very_ well." Her demonstration earlier had made it very clear. "I saw what she did to Charlotte," he said, forcing his face to impassivity.

"You stood there and let her die," Logan spat venomously. Erik tensed, hands clenching and grey eyes narrowing.

The Wolverine, however, did not miss it. "She called you her friend, you know," he added spitefully. "Her old friend Erik. 'Love', too, but I thought that was just a British thing. I know better now. Because she never spoke badly about you, not after you nearly killed Rogue, not after you nearly made her kill every human, not after any of it. She always forgave you and considered you a friend and I'm starting to wonder _why_. Why she bothered. Why she cared. Why she thought you were worth the pain you caused her continuously."

Erik bit out, "Do _not_ speak of things you don't understand, Wolverine. You forget I could crumple you like a tin can."

Logan glanced back at Jean, who watched the entire exchange silently. "I'm not leaving here without her."

"Yes. You are," Erik replied and flung him far off.

* * *

He knew he should stop. He knew he should give up his plan after seeing what it cost him. But he had already unwittingly paid the price, so why not reap what rewards he could get?

Though, it this plan fell through…Erik didn't think he had it in him to try again.

He had already lost Charlotte. The twins...well, they were in a bad state, but he could not imagine them forgiving him anytime soon. What was left for him if not to protect all the other mutants' futures?

It was this he pondered upon as he moved the Golden Gate Bridge.

Charlotte had once told him the secret to true power was somewhere "between rage and serenity". The rage and guilt and grief was certainly enough once he had calmed his aching heart.

"Charlotte always wanted to build bridges," he murmured to himself as he moved the bridge to Alcatraz Island.

* * *

It was chess.

He sent the pawns first before eventually the knights and bishops. He held the queen and one of his rooks close until the end, sending the latter out against his old friend the Iceman.

It was chess and they didn't even realize they had lost their king and queen already—Charlotte, who has always been so much more than a single chess piece. They scrambled pitifully.

The chess metaphor, however, brought to mind memories of late night chess matches against Charlotte. He brushed the memories away before they could distract him.

He watched the battle below.

He was surprised to see Hank amidst the fighting and, more so, to see the shine of Emma Frost's diamond form there as well. Her sister wouldn't be far behind then.

Wolverine never realized that he was made of metal and therefore putty in Erik's hands. "You never learn do you?" he muttered.

"Actually," the metallic mutant grinned, "I do."

It was Hank, of all people, who leapt down and stabbed him in the chest. Hank, who he had found with Charlotte, who he had helped train, who he had guided, who he had abandoned.

Hank, who stabbed him in the chest and growled, "This is for Charlotte, _Erik_."

When the dizziness hit him, so did the horror as Hank moved his paw and Erik saw that it was not a blade he'd been stabbed with.

"_No!_" he gasped, collapsing. "I'm—"

"One of them?" the Wolverine growled. But there was still a chance—

He rolled to look up at the black queen of this game, at the Phoenix. "This is what they want," he gasped. "For all of us."

Shuddering with a miniature seizure, he pulled the needles out of his chest with a trembling, weak hand. But it was too late to stop the cure.

Finally, he managed to stand and stared at his creation, at Jean-turned-Phoenix and her destructive fury. "What have I done?" he murmured in horror before forcing himself to stand and run.

He could feel his powers ebb away as he ran. His sixth sense vanished in a minute if not less than that.

It was too much at this point.

First Charlotte. Then the entire plan. Now his powers.

As he forced himself to run, it was as if the beat of his heart pounding in his ears was a metronome to his thoughts.

_Charlotte. Liebling. Charlotte…_

* * *

Logan stood before the four graves with Storm, but she went to the Professor's and knelt curiously.

"What is it?" he asked.

Instead of answering, she traced some of the wording on the gravestone that doesn't quite match the rest.

_Mein Liebling_.

"That's new," he said. "Why's that familiar?" Storm smiled slightly but gave no answer, waiting for him to remember.

"Wait…Outside Jean's house," he remembered.

Storm chuckled. "It means 'my darling' or 'my beloved' in German, more or less," she explained. "And there is only one of the Professor's friends who speak German."

He stared at her. "I hope you don't mean who I think you mean."

"Erik Lehnsherr," she reminded him. "Before he was Magneto, he was a German boy named Erik Lehnsherr. Before he was Magneto, they were the closest of friends. And…more. Besides that they had Wanda and Pietro. And more than just that. Obvious when I look back…"

Logan stared at her. "When he explained, I always just thought they…hooked up once or something. But, you mean the Professor and Magneto were…?"

"Not the most traditional, I assure you," Storm replied. "That much I knew. They never got to spend much time together before it all went to hell. It was during the Cuban Missile Crisis, when they were on the same side. Mag—_Erik_ accidentally deflected a bullet into her spine, rendering her paraplegic. He left very soon afterward to start the Brotherhood, from what I've gathered. I don't think he knew of the extent of her injury. And they didn't know it, but she was pregnant at the time," Storm motioned to the first, smaller grave. "Their daughter was stillborn. A couple years later, they had the twins, though he wasn't there for it. The Professor raised them alone—it was safer, she always said. Their last name is Maximoff because it was better, safer, than advertising that Professor X and Magneto'd had children together."

"So, this whole time, they were a couple?" he said in confusion. "How does that even work?"

Storm rolled her eyes. "Like I said. I don't think they ever really got to be a couple. But I was one of her first students, soon after they parted ways. For the longest time, I had hear stories slip out about a man named Erik as I heard on the news about a new mutant terrorist group led by someone named Magneto. It took me years to discover the Erik from the Professor's past was Magneto. She didn't exactly tell many people."

Logan stared at the little German words, so painstakingly carved into the metal. "And he…uh, reciprocated?"

She chuckled. "I think he did, yes. Look at the proof before you if you do not think so."

After a long moment of trying to take this all in, Logan asked, "So, where's the lunatic now?"

She shrugged. "Because you and Hank gave him the cure, people don't seem to care so much about tracking him down. What's the point, really, to them? He is just an old, bitter, lonely man now but not dangerous any longer. And before you argue about that, just think about all he lost in the past week alone."

If Storm was right and they'd been…involved since the Missile Crisis…well, fuck, that was nearly fifty years. It hurt him enough losing Jean after only one. But fifty…_fuck_.

And his powers, just to top it off too.

_Dammit. Now I'm starting to sympathize for him. _


	39. Book 5: Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**_Two Months Later_**

* * *

The park was warm and pleasantly open. Tall trees created long swathes of shade over the collection of chess tables set up there under.

Erik stared at the old metal chess set before him hollowly.

What was the point of it? Without her…the entire game seemed pointless. There was none of the old joy and enjoyment.

Maybe that had just been enjoying Charlotte's company rather than the actual game.

The metal chess pieces seemed to mock him. He ached to reach out for them, to move them, to change them at a thought. But they felt dead.

Maybe that was just him.

Now, he was just a lonely old man, embittered by the past, scorned from the people he'd tried so hard to help. What was left for him, really? Charlotte was gone and seemed to have taken his heart with her.

There was no family for him; the closest thing he'd ever had to a family had been in a house in Westchester years ago—a family he had abandoned in a fruitless quest for vengeance and "equality", a family he had no right to any longer. Charlotte, Mys—_Raven_ at the time—, Hank, Alex, Sean. They were all gone. He had no clue where Alex and Sean were, probably with families of their own. Hank was the new Ambassador to the UN. Erik had no clue where Mystique was; they'd had no contact since he had abandoned her. (No point in going back to her; even loyalty as strong as hers could convince her to take him back after such a cold betrayal.)

His children were either dead or out of reach. He did not have the courage to reach out to the twins. And Charlotte was…Well.

No love. No family. No mark left on the world. Not really.

Nothing at all but bitterness and regret.

He stared at the black king piece on the board before raising a shaking hand to the board. Concentrating, concentrating like he hadn't since a futile attempt with a coin, since an attempt with a satellite dish…Since Charlotte, her comforting presence in his mind, offering wordless, free encouragement…Since he'd heard "_There is so much more to you than just pain and anger…_"

And it twitched before him, making Erik freeze.

He forced himself to breath, not to hyperventilate publicly in his isolated joy.

"Care for a game?" someone asked behind him. He turned, bewildered until—

"_Charlotte?_"

* * *

**_"I believe in nothing,  
100 suns until we part.  
I believe in nothing,  
Not in sin and not in God.  
I believe in nothing,  
Not in peace and not in war  
I believe in nothing  
But the truth in who we are."_**

**~ "100 Suns", 30 Seconds to Mars**


	40. Book 6 - The Epilogue

**Dedicated to ****tuila****, my faithful reviewer since the beginning. She truly affected the course of this story more than you'll ever know. She's pointed out errors and we have had so many in-depth character dissections that I cannot even begin to count. **

**She has my gratitude, as well as all of you readers.**

* * *

**Book 6:**

**A Thousand Years**

**_"And all along I believed I would find you.  
Time has brought your heart to me.  
I have loved you for a thousand years,  
I'll love you for a thousand more…"_**

**~ "A Thousand Years", Christina Perri**

* * *

"_Charlotte?_"

The silver-haired woman smiled gently. "Hello, Erik."

He stood faster than he thought possible and knelt beside her, pulling her into a tight hug—desperate to reassure himself that she was real. She was there, she was real, she was alive. So wonderfully, fantastically, amazingly alive. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled her in for a kiss.

It was intimate, it was desperate, and it was just what he had dreamed of for years. He cupped her cheek, searching her blue eyes.

_Liebling_, he thought, unable to rein in his awe and joy. She didn't seem to mind. He felt her presence in the back of his head, wrapped around his mind like a blanket.

_My love_, she greeted softly and glimpsed into his memories following her death, his grief, the fighting, losing his powers, his mourning ever since. She lingered on a few memories—_him, reading her letter and trying to hold back a sob so he wasn't caught…the twins finding him anyways and their ensuing moment as an actual family…him, snarling at Pyro, "_My single greatest regret is that she had to die._"…him at her gravestone, mourning and weeping…_

She shared with him a feeling of warmth and love, soothing the ragged edges of his wounded heart. _I'm here, Erik. I'm not leaving again. I promise. Never again, never again. Never. _

"This has to be a dream," he whispered. "An amazing, heartbreaking dream."

Her smile was beautiful and exactly the same as it had been, years ago, when a compassionate woman pulled an angry, misguided man from the sea and rejoiced in their meeting. "It's not a dream, I promise. I'm real and I am here and I am never letting you leave ever again. Bullet or no bullets."

Erik brushed his thumb across her cheek. "How?"

She caught his hand in hers and motioned for him to return to his chair. Erik did and she explained, though Charlotte did not once release her hand from his. "Once again, my love, you forget," she said and touched her temple with her free hand.

The gesture was so familiar but so forgotten. She hadn't done it in years, decades even, but not often at all after Cuba. It was a mannerism he had gotten to know her as having and seeing it again left him with a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he had gotten a second chance after all.

"You recall the day we went to Jean's house that first time, some twenty years ago?" she continued. "I projected myself there."

He closed his eyes and nodded in dawning, amazed comprehension. "You did it again, didn't you?"

A smile touched her lips. "Yes. I wasn't sure about it all. I knew I would go into that house to speak with Jean alone and knew the possible outcomes. So I decided a little psychic trickery was possible. I never taught Jean that skill," she added. "So she never learned to recognize it after so many years of my practice. That…paid off. It was a risk. But one I was willing to take. Had she caught me…" she trailed off with a shudder.

"What might she have done?" he asked, concerned.

"Made it impossible for my consciousness to return to my body, most likely. Possibly have just killed me all together. I'm unsure, but it would not have been pleasant." She wrinkled her nose. "It wasn't pleasant anyways."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She sighed and squeezed his hand. "In the projection, I died. That non-corporeal visualization of my body died. Had I been there, I would actually be quite dead. Because she 'killed' me before I could return to my body, I was…troubled in finding my way back."

"What do you mean?"

"I was…lost, I suppose, for two months," she replied and tapped her temple again. "Mentally, I couldn't connect to my body again and so I was, technically, in a coma until two days ago."

He stared in disbelief. "Who—who knew?" he asked hoarsely. "Did anyone?"

Hesitantly, she nodded. "Yes, Raven. After…after she was given the cure—"

"After I abandoned her," he murmured.

She nodded in reluctant agreement. "She showed up at the mansion, asking for my help because she had nowhere else to turn. I kept her presence a secret—she was still a wanted criminal at the time. I told her my plan and warned her of the possible outcomes—the twins I only told after I woke earlier, actually. I feared I may not survive and so did not want to give them false hopes, should I never have woken from the coma. Raven watched over me after it happened. But she left me only to tip off the government about you. I instructed her to do that; don't be angry with her for it."

Erik shook his head. "I'm not." _Surprisingly._

The telepath smiled and kissed him again.

He studied her face, comparing it with his memory. Same hair, just a bit shorter, tamer curls, and completely silver now. Same blue eyes, if more tired but…happier. Laugh lines and smile lines showed that she had not lied when she wrote that she had lived a happy life. Small, thin wrinkles around her eyes that only made her seem distinguished, experienced, respectable.

_Still beautiful._

Her eyes softened when she heard the thought and she brushed a hand through his white hair. _The same can be said of you, still as handsome as the day we met._

For a moment, neither said or thought a word, merely enjoying the peace and contentment of being together, finally, wholly together for the first time in years.

_What now?_ He eventually asked her. _Will you return to the school?_

Charlotte was visibly torn. _I—no,_ she replied slowly. _I will not go back if that means I won't be with you. Storm should be capable of running it. If not her, Emma may be persuaded. Wanda, too, might be convinced; she'll ensure it does continue, if nothing else. I dedicated forty years to that school. It will continue on without me. You, however, I promised to never leave nor let leave me._

_If you wish to return to your school, I will accompany you_, he offered. _I tried this my way and look where it landed me: without you, without powers. Let's try it your way._

_Truly? _she asked, blue eyes wide. _You're willing to give up the mutant superiority complex?_

Erik sighed. "My dear, I believe I lost that quite quickly after I lost you and my ability. If nothing else, losing my powers has taught me a lesson in humility as well. Yes, if you will have me, I will join you at your school."

The smile of shock and joy and amazement she gave him could have, had he his power, given him strength to manipulate a hundred satellites.

But she paused. _I saw you trying to move the chess piece when I came up. Did it—?_

_I thought so, but was distracted,_ he smiled.

"Try it, Erik," she said, gripping one hand tightly.

He nodded and held the other out to the white queen chess piece, concentrating. Drawing on the fact that Charlotte was here, alive, well, with him.

It wobbled slightly then, abruptly, shot to his hand, levitating in the air above his palm. She laughed in joy as she watched.

Carefully, like stretching a stiff muscle, he tested his control little at a time until he was certain of it.

_This means the cure is temporary!_ She crowed. _Oh, thank God! You—Raven—Rogue—all the others—they'll be okay!_

Determinedly, he focused on the suddenly malleable metals in his hand and shaped it carefully before picking up the black king as well.

He squeezed her left hand to draw her attention back. "Liebling, you told me in your letter that you loved me. And now I finally have the chance to say that I love you as well. And, if you will have me, I'll ask you this." Gently he held out the delicate ring he had shaped from the white queen piece and the larger ring of the black king. "Will you do me the honor of having you as my wife?"

"_Yes!_" she nearly shouted, her telepathy projecting the thought as well. She flung her arms around him, pressing her face to his neck. "Yes, of course, Erik. Nothing would make me happier."

* * *

That evening, as they entered the school's front gate and went together toward the entrance, Charlotte felt a sense of peace fall upon her, a sense of contentment and serene joy.

As they strode toward the mansion and saw a waiting group of shocked and amazed faces— Wanda, Pietro, Logan, Storm, Hank, and several students—, a smile bloomed across her lips.

_Home at last_, Charlotte told him quietly, squeezing his hand in hers.

And now, it finally felt like her home was whole.

* * *

**_"I have died everyday waiting for you,  
Darling don't be afraid._**

**_ I have loved you for a thousand years  
I'll love you for a thousand more."_**

**~ "A Thousand Years", Christina Perri**

* * *

**_The End_**


	41. A Companion One-Shot

There is now a one-shot companion story to "A Thousand Years" about Wanda. As she grew up, she slowly learned about her parents' dark and troublesome past, but it took far longer for her to understand their love.

The story - "Little Lion Man's Daughter: Wanda's Story" - is available on my profile.

Once more, thank you again for your reading, reviews, and support.


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